Head full of cottonballs
by JosieStyle
Summary: Neal thought he simply cured himself from this little sleep-disorder. But after Ellen's dead, things just got worse and worse. And within his fragile state, he had gotten himself into a dangerous situation. Nealwhump, Mozziewhump and a very worried Peter.
1. Chapter 1

**Head full of cotton balls**

…

Maybe it was the fact that he lived in a city that never seemed to sleep. But he was wide awake, every night. At least as long he could remember. To be honest, Neal didn't remember when this had started.

But he couldn't sleep anymore, with all that traffic going around. It caused an endless noise. No matter what he tried to ignore this constant buzz. He heard it. It was never completely silent out there.

Neal rested his arms on the edge of the balcony as his eyes wandered over the buildings. It was a mixture of yellow and black because there were always some lights still one, somewhere.

He was never alone.

Some car horns sounded below him, he heard a man yell as he dangerously proceed crossing the busy street. Neal effortlessly watched him disappear into the darkness again. Some cars stopped slightly. Some cars horned angrily at him and hastened away as the green lights changed into orange. A cold gust of wind blew by. Causing Neal to wiggle his bare toes against the freezing floor. The cool wind made his pajama pants wrinkle. And his bare upper body shiver, lightly. He yawned aloud.

All signs of exhaustion and lack of sleep. _He knew that…_

He knew he wasn't supposed to be here. He needed his sleep. Like everyone else.

But the traffic noises… he couldn't ignore it.

Nevertheless Neal couldn't remember how many times he had listened to it, with a smile on his perfect face.

Deep down Neal found it actually quite comforting.

Knowing that he wasn't the only person awake at night. Unable to give himself over to the blissful unconsciousness. _Why not? _That he didn't know. Nor bother thinking about it.

It was absurd, though, how often Neal had looked at the traffic like this, here from this balcony. Thinking about the fact that in every vehicle must've been at least one person. One awake person that needed to go somewhere at night. 'Where did they go?' he wondered than. 'What was their excuse?'

…

Anyway, by the time it was morning Neal found himself regularly back in his bed, again. Robbed of memory when he'd decided to give it another try. Nor the memory he managed to catch some sleep.

But Neal only knew one thing. There were no dreams anymore.

When this problem started was a great mystery to him. Maybe Neal really didn't know. Or maybe, just maybe, he didn't want to give it more thought about it than he already had let himself. Because… The more he did, the more Neal realized that he had a serious problem.

…

First there was nothing to worry about. It started quite innocently. At first it started with waking up an hour earlier before he'd sat the alarm. It was actually pretty delightful that he could start his day in peace. It takes time, you know, to get into that self-inflicted armor of perfection. And he wasn't only referring to the expensive classic suits.

Nobody noticed when Neal had and lethargic moment, that was usually around eleven, which was incidentally cured with a bitter cup of nasty coffee from the office. During the more practical matters, in which he played a more active role, it was the adrenaline that kept him on the legs. But mostly he collapsed in his drowsiness afterwards.

And in the end, things had gotten worse. Simple tasks like bringing a file upstairs to Peter's desk or getting his sandwich out of the refrigerator during lunchtime left him out of breath while feeling unbelievable tired and prostrate. Things what a simple cup of coffee couldn't fix.

_How long had it been since he had slept all night_, were Neal's wordless thoughts, when he caught himself on a blackout during a meeting about a new case, one day. The answer appeared in his fuzzy mind as a stab with a hot knife and this made him feel awful uncomfortable. _It was more than two months ago_.

…

'Neal! Will you focus on the case, please? This is important! ' Peter grumbled one day. It brought Neal back and apologetically straightened his slouched posture. Peter was one of the few people, that was capable to read his thoughts. In fact, he was the only one who seemed to know everything about him. And a little voice in his mind hoped that Peter saw what was going one with him. Neal hoped badly he didn't have to tell him what was bothering him for a while, now. Because, it was quite personal. He didn't want to talk about it. He tried to ignore this. But things had gotten too far, already.

His blurry eyes were being dragged and swallowed into the brown eyes of Peter. Just a moment they stared at each other, the grinning buzz from the colleagues was just a distant noise like the endless buzz of the traffic, at night. Neal had actually no idea, of what so ever, how long this intense gaze lasted. But at one moment he received a signal. _Peter knew._ He had understood something.

Maybe, not exactly. But Peter must've register that Neal was hiding something. Not only for him, or the office. But also from himself. Something that wasn't illegal, or anything. But something that lay deeply within himself.

Neal was sick. But whatever it might be, is has to be something bad.

…

AN: I wrote it once in my own language and that didn't work out so well. LOL. So now I will continue in English. Part two is on the way. Please tell me what you think

X

Josie


	2. Chapter 2

This day was a disaster. Neal kept blacking out during conversations and couldn't even focus on the letters in the files he had to read. Peter must've known he wasn't at his game. Because, he personally requested Neal to take another look at some old cold-cases.

His head felt empty. Like if it was filled with little cotton balls. He tried to think of something against this feeling, then one word pushed through. Coffee. That was what he needed.

He got up from his chair and started walking towards the coffeemaker. A strong feeling of disorientation crept up on him. "Danny?" a voice whispered in his ear. Neal startled and looked around. No one was there. A sick feeling was haunting him.

And when he decided to head towards the facilities he almost bumped up against Hughes. The old men looked deep into his eyes with an unreadable frown. The nausea was gone in an instant but it had left him weak and very sleepy. Hughes said something but Neal couldn't understand what he wanted from him. So he shook his head and walked away from him. The old man didn't bother him again. But right after he filled his ugly FBI mug with the last of the coffee he startled when a hand landed on his shoulder. The mug slipped out of his hand and didn't bother trying to prevent himself from getting filthy by the hot brown splash afterwards. He just blinked slowly at the spots on his tie and turned himself over towards the deep sigh.

It was Peter.

'_You are sick, aren't you? You have been sick for nearly a week, now. And if I ask you what's wrong you'll say: rough night. And I believed you. Until now. So. What is really wrong, Neal?'_ he asked in his greatest concern. His hand never left his shoulder. In fact the pressure only increased when he silently started to sob.

He didn't know what happened. It wasn't something he usually did. Extremely embarrassed Neal tried to control his feelings. But he was too tired. Right then, Diana walked over and put his hat on. The rim covered half his face. Within minutes Diana and Peter guided him to the elevator and called him a taxi.

It was a busy day at the office. Peter couldn't leave, but for Neal this day was over.

_'Get some sleep, kid. Sometimes the bureau forgets that you are a human being. Maybe I let them put you under too much pressure, lately.'_ Peter gave him a stiff and formal hug after Neal finally stopped shivering from his unrealistic breakdown. Diana gave him a pat on his upper arm as he entered the elevator on his own. _'See you tomorrow Caffrey,'_ she said, smiling softly.

…

After Peter had send him home, Neal changed slowly into his secret dark blue hoody and one hideously oversized gray sweatpants. Then, feeling slightly more comfortable, he took his place on the dinner table. Flipped open his borrowed laptop from Mozz. And started to do some research about sleeping issues. Because. That was how it all started; wasn't it?

Soon when he found some information about it, a concerned and yet familiar feeling crept up inside him.

This has to be it. Narcolepsy. Neal swallowed hard.

That means it was back!

...

'_Narcolepsy is a sleep disorder that involves excessive, uncontrollable daytime sleepiness._

_It is caused by a dysfunction of the brain mechanism that controls sleeping and waking._

_If you have narcolepsy, you may have "sleep attacks" while in the middle of talking, working, or even driving.'_

_..._

He had it since the day his mother died. But it disappeared right after he ran away from his foster parents and stayed with Ellen until he was fifteen. No one could explain why the narcolepsy suddenly disappeared. But it just did. Although, Neal had a pretty good idea. Neal couldn't handle stress very well. He was a sensitive child. Something had snapped when he found his mother dead onto the kitchen floor. And that image haunted him for years. No one was able to help. No one seemed to care, either.

Ellen had a soothing effect on him. She always seemed to know what he needed and when he needed it. Ellen was a strong woman who could see right through him. She was smart and warm. And Neal always liked to pretend that she was his mother.

Neal heaved a deep sigh. Every back muscle spasms as he felt the fear of losing his job over this. Why? Why again? What made him turning back to his old disorder? Stress, like Peter suggested earlier this day?

Neal remembered the time how he and Mozzie were talking about permanent living in New York. Settling in like normal civilians. Stealing an expansive car to show off by the lady's. And somehow that was the moment Neal chose to tell his friend about his fear of getting behind the wheels. He was afraid he would fall asleep and actually kill someone and maybe himself while at it. After Neal was caught by Peter Burke and ended up in prison, Mozzie thought he could do him a favor by erasing all of the weaknesses in his file before he left the city once again.

Neal didn't know. Until he got out and started to work as a CI. No one ever asked about his mental health and that means there wasn't a thing mentioned about it in his file.

Being a con was all about controlling your emotions. Your expressions. Sometimes when he had to play angry he felt some weakness in his legs. Or when he was holding a gun at some point he got too excited and paralyzed right on the spot. He suddenly remembered how he felt when he was ready to shoot Fowler. He couldn't control himself. He felt so lost. When Ellen was shot and died shortly after, he fell onto the ground. Paralyzed for a few seconds. Everyone thought it was just shock. But he knew he was actually razing red flags for his long forgotten sleeping disorder. Maybe, from that day it started all over again. His sleepless nights.

Neal didn't understand why he had forgotten about this. Or why he didn't recognize any of the symptoms right away when he was starting to have some sleeping issues. Although it was possible that he buried it deep inside his head. Trying to forget, who he really was.

"Danny?" he suddenly heard a sweet humming voice, right above his head. He smiled and looked up in those green bright eyes. That face! She was so beautiful. Just like he remembered her.

"Mommy," he whispered softly. He closed his laptop and shifter on his chair towards her. "Danny Bennett. It is past bedtime. What did I tell you about getting to bed too late?" the voice turned stern. But her face was still as sweet as before. Neal grinned.

"I am not afraid of you, Mommy." Her two hands rested on her hips. She shook her head but grinned back. Her golden curls danced around her glowing frame. Everything faded away. Only his mother matters, now.

"Oh Danny, no one is ever able to get mad at you, with those blue eyes. Come on, sweetie. I help you get ready."

Neal smiled and got up from his chair. Suddenly confused at the empty apartment. "M-mom?"

No. He did not just hallucinate about his mother. He wasn't a head case. He looked down at his naked legs. His pants had fallen from his narrow hips. He reached at it but got dizzy and stumbled down on to the ground. Heaving and shivering from his weakness Neal reached out for his mobile phone and dialed Mozzie. He was after all familiar with this.

…

_AN: Wow, I am amazed at how many had read my first chapter already. Thank you for taking your time at my ramblings. About this particular form of sleeping disorder. Most of the patients are constantly tired and unable to control their feelings. When they got emotional they could fall asleep from the spot or collapse onto the ground unable to control their muscles. Somehow I ended up with this idea because Neal has always been a great conman. But what happens when he can't control his feelings from his serious lack of sleep? And what if he wasn't always this good at playing smooth?_

_Please leave a comment and I will make you another chapter by tomorrow :)!_

_X_

_Josie_


	3. Chapter 3

"Take this," Mozzie said, after fumbling with the medicine box. And Neal knew he was stalling. Mozz clearly hated it to drug him up. But it was his only choice, right now.

They were sitting on the bed, next to each other. When Mozzie came in and found him absently crying on the floor he knew what was going on. He went to the first aid cabinet on the bathroom wall and rummaged through the perfectly organized stuff until he found what he was looking for. It where sleeping pills, of course. But Neal had always told him he didn't want that stuff.

Neal just sat there, staring dully affront of him, in complete silence. Never made much of a sound. Hunched over like a crippled grandpa, completely living in his own world.

"Neal, listen. I know you don't want to take them. But this is your own choice right now. Or do you prefer a visit to the doctor's office?"

Tears started to well up again as the pills came into his vision. Too tired and currently too weak to argue about taking the damn medicine he picked one up from Mozz extending hand. But he hesitated for a moment before he put it on his tongue, though. He has been there before. And he hates doing this to himself, once again.

If he would take the pills he would sleep for at least eight hours. The uncontrolled emotional state would most likely be gone after this. Neal should be more capable with doing his work, without falling apart every now and then, which was nice. He would be fine…

For at least one day.

If not, it was probably because he had struggled with sleeping in at night for so long, and needed some sleeping pills again. Maybe for a couple of days. Just to be sure.

Just like the last time.

"Neal. I know what you're thinking. I didn't forget what you told me about last time. I-It is just… Take the pills, mon frère. I won't let it go that far, this time. I promise." A hand stroked his back.

He had taken this road before. Addicted to those things. He knew he wasn't able to get himself asleep when he wanted to. His brain wouldn't let him. At day, at night. Maybe under the shower, or on some dangerous undercover job. Who knows! He couldn't rely on his own will; he wasn't in control with this. Neal liked being reassured, secured, about his steadiness. But he knew he couldn't count on this. Not with this…

He needed those pills. They would help. But after he decided he would swallow one he would be longing for more. It was nice to feel reassured that there was something that could take away the fear of sleeping in while you are talking to friend or fall apart when you get anxious. Not the sleeping part. Just the fear… But it was a bad choice.

He heaved a sigh, popped the pill inside his mouth and flushed it down with the last of his herbal tea. It took some time for feeling the first effects, but just to be sure Neal eased himself down onto his bed. Mozzie made sure his friend was okay and draped a blanket over his small frame. Two glazed orbs stared at him, observing his moved and everything.

"Mozz," he finally spoke. "Would you stay over? Please," he almost pleaded. Mozz straightened his back and smiled fondly at the sleepy kid. "Of course, mon frère. Now try to go to sleep," he whispered.

…

A few hours later Neal's mobile started buzzing. Neal never stirred while sleeping soundly. Mozzie sat on the sofa, occupied with a book and one a glass of Neal's greatest wines. He looked up at Neal's suit jacket, who was hanging over a wooden chair.

That must be Peter. Who else would have called at this hour? Mozz thought, a bit tipsy by now. Quickly, he looked on his watch before grabbing the phone and startled at the fact that it was still three ó clock in the afternoon.

"Suit?" he asked as he took the call questionably. There was a frustrating sigh on the other side.

"Mozz… I thought I called Neal. Did you switch each other's phones again?" Mozz snorted to that but nervously looked over at the sleeping form a couple of feet away.

"No. I am at his apartment. He called me but didn't tell me what happened."

"Why… is he alright? I was going to ask him if he needed some homemade soup from El-lisabeth." That made Mozz frown. Right. Soup. Like that will cure thing up.

"Suit… Peter. How much do you know about this, exactly?" Peter sighed again. This time a bit more in a concerned kind of matter.

"What do you mean? Mozz! What's wrong with Neal? I just...Its bad isn't it? He didn't tell me anything."

'Oops...' were Mozzie thoughts. He may just have opened a door he really shouldn't open up to Peter. If Neal didn't like Peter to know about this, he hadn't had the right to do this at all.

"You should ask Neal himself. But he isn't capable to come on to the phone right now." Again, Mozz glanced over at the sleeping huddle on the bed. "He is sleeping," he added softly. "He will call you back if he is awake, bye." Mozz didn't give Peter any chance to say something back because he knew he would have said too much. Besides, Neal started to stir.

…

The next morning, about seven, Neal woke up with a yawn and happily stretched his body. The sleep did him some good and he was actually feeling a lot better. Amazed at his returned strength he started to wonder if this all was even that bad at all. A sleeping disorder was something stupid, anyway. Even the doctors didn't take him too serious. They only suggested him about monitoring his habits at the sleep clinic, and told him to start with a sleep dairy. They didn't even give him some pills over this. (And maybe they tried to get him to a psychologist once, but Neal never heard that… He wasn't that guy. A nut case.)

Mozz wasn't happy when he started dressing himself for work. But he told him he wasn't feeling like he was about to burst into tears again any second now, so that was a big improvement.

No matter how hard Mozzie tried he insisted to go to work and grabbed a cab.

Mozzie forgot to tell him about calling in on Peter first. But maybe this was for the best. Now Neal could deal with it on its own. Oh, what the heck, I'll just send him a message, Mozz thought then.

"_Please tell Peter about this."_ Neal saw the text and gave a sigh. Every fiber in his body didn't want to do that. But… he guessed he had no other choice.

"_Don't worry. I know I have to." _he texted back.

…

The elevator ride was long. Some sleepiness behind his blue eyes appeared once again. He yawned, blamed it on the medicine. _He was fine. _

_He was fine._

_Fine._

"Caffrey, hey. I didn't expect you back on your feet this fast. How are you doing?" Diana asked amazed at his fresh looking face. Somehow he looked much better. But still a bit pale and fragile.

"I am fine. Just needed to sleep in early, I guess." He didn't lie.

_He was fine. Smile. Keep smiling. _

"Well that's great. But I think you should go to Peter's office. He wants to talk to you about something." Diana hunched in a little closer. "He never stopped talking about you, yesterday, It's cute." She smiled at him.

"Is that so," he reacted back with a stiff grin, while propping his hands in his pants pockets for a moment.

Neal felt a slight tremble in his hands as he walked over to Peter's office. He almost felt Diana's eyes staring wholes in his back. A drowsy feeling crept up inside him and he heaved a sigh before he knocked onto the door. Vision blurred a bit. Just like yesterday.

"Damn," he mumbled softly. Angry at himself.

He heaved another sigh. Blinked a couple of times and put on a smile. _It's just Peter._

"Come in," Peter replied. And Neal popped his head around the corner.

"Morning, partner."

It took Peter a moment to register the fact that the young man where he was worried sick about stood right there in the doorframe. But he managed a smile on his face as well.

"Neal! Hey. Why didn't you call me back last night? El made some soup," came out rushed. He blinked once and eased down a bit. Trying to act less concerned. When Peter had found his ZEN he tried again. "Mozz was with you, and he obviously didn't tell you I called."

Neal frowned.

"No. I-I was asleep. The whole night." He never thought he could be this honest. Perhaps he was a bit proud he finally managed to get a shut eye after months of trying.

"Really?" Peter mused. Obviously not believing his honest words.

His brown eyes were swallowing him up again. Neal had to swallow hard. Just as he thought all his tension was finally seeping away from his body, he started to feel uncomfortable again. This was apparently the moment that he should tell this. He swallowed again. Slightly nervous about it, his hands started to tremble even more. In order to hide it once again, he propped his hands in his pockets. Only to take him back out with the urge to fold them around his chest.

"'Bout that…" he started. Vision started to blur again.

_No. no nononono. _Blinking hard.

"I have to tell you something," Neal said with a thick voice. Peter nodded. He looked pale with worriedness. He called his name once. Then suggested him to sit down for some reason. Neal suddenly didn't understand why he was frowning at him like that.

_Oh wait. I am swaying. _

And then, yet again, another black-out hit him. First his limps went numb. Then his everything…

Doctors weren't that stupid after all. They must've known those sleeping pills didn't work on him with this kind of sleeping disorder. Oh but they did, you know. He wasn't crying his eyes out…

Ah what the hell. Who was he kidding? They never worked on him before! They just let you sleep for a while. But no matter how long you slept you still just could fall of the wagon. Like the switch of a lightning bulb.

Why him? Why now? He was cured! He was, right?

He already lost almost everything in his life. His father, sort of… His mother. His freedom. Kate and Ellen. Did he have to loss his dignity too?

A conman… the famous Neal Caffrey. Down with a funny illness. Just like that 'Mister Bean fellow' in that movie called: _Ratrace_.

It wasn't fair.

Neal felt so embarrassed when he woke up, finding himself staring into Peter's huge brown eyes again. He must be worrying sick about him. He probably thought he fainted or something. When he tried to get away from his strong grip, man he was strong, he managed to push him back down.

"Peter, let me go. It's over now," he said somberly.

"Christ, Neal. You fainted, right in my office. You're not getting up. That's an order. Diana already called someone over from medical." Neal blinked astounded and immediately shook his head.

"No no no. That's not really necessary. This isn't this kind of a problem. Peter! Call them off. I-It's something else."

Peter froze to that. Neal could almost hear his thoughts: 'Neal was finally admitting he was down with something?'

He frowned and let Neal go as he tried to get upright. Finally aware of the few anxious people that were standing in Peter's office with them, Neal blinked once, before getting pink ears.

"Do you mind!" he grumbled at the confused probies. Meanwhile he adjusted his messy hair.

Peter expelled them quickly. As soon as the room was empty and the door was closed, Neal got up from the ground and took a seat in Peter's earlier offered chair.

A moment of awkward silence was between them.

"It's a disorder… It has to do something with losing the control of sleeping in," Neal admitted as he hung forward and placed his elbows on his knees. His voice was irritated. No: ashamed. Pissed at why this is happening to him… again! Peter took his place on the other chair behind his desk.

"A sleeping disorder?" he asked and Neal saw how Peter's face lighten up in relieve. "My God... That's just great. I really was worried you were going to tell me you had epilepsy or something. Or worse."

"This isn't something to be great about, Peter. I can't sleep. I can't get too angry or too happy before I fall asleep. Can't drive. Take an early run in the morning without the fear of losing control." Peter started to laugh.

"Can't run?"

It only made Neal angrier.

"Look. I am well aware that this is all funny to you. But I…" Neal stopped halfway his sentence, blinking hard. This time he wasn't about to black out, or anything. But he felt some tears left his eyes.

"Great. This is just great. Like I haven't embarrassed myself enough affront of you, already." He shifted away from Peter and dried his eyes.

Peter was silent. Very silent. Probably feeling stupid for laughing at him. Good!

"Bastard," Neal said with a heartbreaking faltering voice. Peter had apparently no clue what to do with this. He opened his mouth to say something until he heard a knock. It was Diana with some occupational physician. With a frown and a headshake he hoped they got it. And luckily, Diana understood it right away. Meanwhile Neal looked even more miserable. He needed some comfort right now. From him. Peter bit his lip as he pat his shoulder. Neal automatically pushed him away.

"Neal, I… you're right. I am so sorry." Peter tried. But Neal didn't even look at him. "Look at me. It was bold of me to laugh at you. Maybe I was just relieved about the fact that you aren't dying from something worse, or anything." That made Neal glance over at him. Eyes were red-rimmed and shooting fire.

"Save it, okay. Just save it. You don't even know what I am going through. No one does!"

There. He said it. He was hurt. He was alone. He needed someone. Someone he can trust, like his mother. Someone warm, like Ellen. Someone who sees him, who he really was.

"I… I am tired," Neal admitted. He wanted to go home again. Mozzie was right. He was still a big mess.

That happy bliss from feeling fresh awake was gone. He knew it was just a temporary solution. He didn't need the pills. He needs his mom.

* * *

AN: :3 review maybe?

X

Josie


	4. Chapter 4

For the second time this week, Peter wanted Neal to go home. Only this time, El would pick him up from the bureau instead of calling him a cab. He couldn't just leave him alone like this. Clearly, Neal needed some comfort. He was acting so hurt and vulnerable that it almost felt wrong to send him away. Deep down he knew Neal needed him. But Peter couldn't just leave this place while there were at least three cases running. But Neal couldn't just stay here either. He scared not only him to death when he lost consciousness. He scared the probies too. And without them handling there end of the cases, the whole white collar division could blow up like a giant ball of chaos.

So, Neal had to go home. Neal being here would only make things worse. Not only for the concerned colleagues. But also for Neal himself. Even now, when he was alone with him, Neal acted ashamed of himself. Neal flinched at the snifling noises he made. His head hung sadly and his brows furrowed. And on top of that, Neal obviously looked death tired.

Peter knew that Neal must be feeling so damn stupid of himself right now. And this was partly Peter's fault. Because he was the one who didn't see what was going on with him for so long. And just a few minutes ago he called him basically stupid with laughing at him in his face about this sleeping disorder while telling him it wasn't that serious.

So… Peter felt stupid too. He had made things worse. And he was the only one who could fix this.

If only he had watched better over his friend (not at _the 'what he did' _and the '_where he did' but:_) at '_how' _ he was actually doing, he would've seen some signs sooner. Peter felt his shoulders tensing up at his guilty feeling he was experiencing. He should've see his best friend was struggling with something.

"Elisabeth is fifteen minutes away. I didn't say what was going on or anything. I pretty much figured you would tell her eventually, when you feel like it."

Neal nodded his gratitude.

"You can wait here with me if you like." Peter knew he was talking to a wall by know. Neal ignored him after his eyes watered and did everything within his will to prevent the second breakdown.

Again Neal only nodded. At least his shoulders stopped shaking and it looked like Neal wasn't shedding his uncontrolled tears anymore.

Being exhausted was a funny thing. Peter had been there himself. It felt like your body is betraying you against everything. And you never know when you are going to lose it. It happened to him once or twice. One time the day before he got married. The other day when he shot someone till death. Actually. He also had sleepless nights when he first visited Neal in prison. Somehow it kept him awake. That kid finally behind bars, after all these trouble. And Peter already felt sorry for him. It was weird. Even then, Peter had felt responsible for him.

And that would probably never change.

Fifteen minutes of awkward silence was a long time. But, after some minutes had past Peter actually starting to see this great opportunity to hear him out a bit. He scraped his throat.

"So… How long do you have this… uhm.. what's it called?"

"Narcolepsy," Neal finally spoke.

"Yeah. That. The Narcolepsy," Peter carefully tried out the word, only to get used to it. Because… this was going to be a serious thing. And not just that one word in his medical file. Peter walked around his desk to stand next to his friend and unconsciously copied his behavior.

"Since the day my mother died," Neal mumbled as he looked at the view with no interest; his hands in his pockets. Obviously still douching every glance from Peter to maintain as normal as he could. He waited quietly in his office until El was here, obviously not in the mood to face the rest of the team alone, like this. Just as Peter suspected it. He would do the same as it was for him.

Neal looked downright awful. Devastated. Hurt.

It took some time for Peter to let the softly spoken words sink in. Then his eyes widened. _Since his mother died?_

"That long?"

"I did say that, yes," Neal replied halfhearted.

"Christ Neal. Why didn't you tell me this earlier? Do you even know how dangerous this is for my team? For you? Why didn't I know about this? And most of all: Why is there nothing mentioned about this in your file?"

Neal snorted.

"Do I really have to say it?"

Peter blew a sigh.

"Mozzie. Of course he has to do something about this. That sneaky little rat-," Peter folded his hands on his hips and almost choked in his words as Neal suddenly looked directly at him.

"Peter. I know it was wrong. But I was fine. I never told you this because I thought I was cured! It went away for years. And then Ellen died…" Neal stopped himself and looked away. Peter never missed the frantic shimmer in his eyes when he mentioned her name.

"I was fine, Peter. Fine. Until… s-she…"

Peter understood. Ellen's death must've triggered this disorder somehow. That was so sad, Peter had to swallow a big lump in his throat. Before he knew it his hand landed on the again shaky shoulders of Neal.

It wasn't only hard for Neal to talk about this kind of stuff. Peter had some trouble too.

"Alright, Neal. It is alright. Right now I feel terrible for not noticing something earlier. I am also so, so sorry about my stupid comments earlier." He squeezed his shoulder before letting go, to his surprise, Neal turned his face towards him. A surprisingly sweet smile appeared on his lips.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Ellen was a special lady. I know she meant a lot to you, Neal. I don't know much about your past and I know you don't want to tell me these things either. But it might as well helps to end this kind of emptiness within you. B-but you don't have to do that to me, you know. You can get some professional help. Someone who knows what to do... and stuff."

That awkward struggling made Neal chuckle a bit.

"Hey… It's okay, Peter. Thank you. But no thanks. Besides: I was the one who didn't want to take some time off, remember? Don't blame yourself about my mistakes. Maybe I had to take some time off like you suggested. I thought about one thing only. Find the one who did this."

They looked at each other for a while. Within this moment, Neal looked totally the same as always. Except for those dark circles around his red-rimmed eyes. It was just like magic. Neal straightened his back and heaved a sigh. His eyes fluttered as if he changed his mind about something.

"Listen… I-I don't feel like going home just yet. C-Can I stay with your wife and Satch for a while? At your house I mean. I think some dog cuddling could make me feel a lot better."

Somehow this was something they both could feel relieved about. And Peter nodded.

"Sure. El probably wouldn't let you go sitting there in that big old house alone, anyway." Neal grinned tiredly. "Yeah, June was going to her daughter this weekend, now you mentioned it. I forgot about that."

"Well, it's your lucky day then. El was thinking about making those little chickens you liked."

"Realy? Sweet." His shoulders finally relaxed some more and gave another sign. Then Neal eyes wandered to Peters and startled when he saw him frown seriously.

"Neal… I know this is a bit difficult right now but… We need to go talk to Hughes about this. He needs to know, too."

Neal gulped. Just as he starting to feel better, the odd shaky feeling got back. But he understood what his confession about his reappeared sleeping disorder meant for his job. There would be consequences. But still… Some fear about going back to prison crept up inside him. This talk with the boss wasn't going to be a walk in the park. But he understand the risks.

"Of course. But does it have to be now? Or c-can it wait until tomorrow? I feel a little uneasy about this and,-"

"Neal. I am sorry. But you have to tell him now. That poor old man is worried about you. Yesterday he came by my office, looking very concerned about you. He told me about your odd behavior and ordered me to send you home. He deserves to know this. Not only because of the job. But also because he cares about you." That made Neal flinch. _Hughes cared?_

"I understand."

…

"You are off duty until you slept one week without any problems. Tomorrow morning you will meet up with this psychologist about ten o' clock. And be honest about yourself. You can't con yourself out of this or you will be going back in prison." Hughes told the young man while giving him a business card.

"You can trust me," he promised. And it looked like the old man believed him. Well, he had meant it too. So it was all great. But the shrink part didn't sound that great. He had been there before without progress or what so ever. They only made him feel worse about his inner feelings. But anyway, Neal nodded his thanks at the senior agent and carefully looked at the card with a suddenly concerned frown.

"Annebell Klimt. Really? I never liked Klimt as an artist, you know. A bit over the top for my taste. Too much gold, no sense of the real meaning of art. Klimt is never been good in my world. Only leads to pain and… and... Does the office have another one with a Rembrandt or Van Gogh or something-,"

"Neal. Stop trying to get out of this one. You are going to meet her, and I will be the one who will bring you to her myself. End of discussion." Neal gave a sigh and looked Peter in the eyes. Then his eyes also met Hughes ones and the old man smiled at his fear. But not in a mean kind of way. More fondly, for that matter.

"Listen, Caffrey. You probably don't belief me but we all have our own damn problems. You will be surprised how many of us had seen Annebell. She is the best. Besides, there is nothing to be ashamed off."

Somehow it made Neal magically feel less stupid.

"And after this… meeting… and she isn't able to help me with my problem, which is possible since this thing is kinda chronic… I won't go back to prison?"

"You don't have to worry about that now, son. You're not fit enough for outside cases for now, Neal. There is too much risk of you getting killed or hurt like this. But that doesn't mean you are useless to us. We will figure something out."

…

It wasn't like she hadn't anything in her own agenda. But what this whole thing might be, this better be important. And mostly, if Peter sounded that helpless over the phone, it usually was.

In her mind Peter's voice played over and over.

"_Can you pick up Neal at the office as soon as you can? I don't want him taking a cab on his own like this. I tell you all about it when you're here, alright, hon?"_

There was something with Neal. And that made her feel uneasy.

El stepped out of the elevator and walked into the office. With her car keys still in her hand she discovered the empty desk of the man she supposed to give a ride home. Slightly worried about her husband's odd request she started thinking about the fact that Neal must be sick or something. Her eyes caught the big stack of untouched case files on Neal's desk and that meant that Neal wasn't working on full speed mode for a while.

"Misses Burke. Come to pick up Neal? He is still upstairs with Peter and Hughes," Diana told her, suddenly standing beside her. El got a curious glance from the tough looking female agent.

But she didn't know what was going on with Neal either.

"Yeah, I am. Diana? What's up with our favorite conman, anyway? Peter sounded so serious over the phone. And that isn't like him." Diana frowned at that and shrugged her shoulders.

"Don't know. Yesterday Neal was sent home because he looked awful. Today I witnessed Caffrey taking a face plant affront of Peter in his office. Something serous is going on if you ask me. At least serious enough that Peter and Neal immediately went to Hughes with it." A sick feeling came over her. It felt like a stone in her stomach.

"Oh dear. I hope it isn't bad," Elisabeth mumbled to herself as she glanced towards the glass office.

Somehow Peter caught sight of her from the glass room and gestured that he will be downstairs in a bit. She caught a glimpse of Neal too and he certainly didn't look good.

Some probies whispered nervously while looking up when Peter finally opened the door and helped Neal walking down the stairs. He wasn't unstable or anything. He was fine. But his stiff posture plus the dark circles around his narrowed eyes and slightly red ears, told Elisabeth otherwise.

"Come on, people. Go back to work. There is nothing to see there. Let Neal through," Hughes said sternly and slightly annoyed with the amounts of too young and fresh looking staff he got send over from Quantigo this year. Reese stayed in the doorframe of his office and greeted El with a short nod before closing his door again. The man looked tired and busy as well.

"Neal. You look a little better. You alright?" Diana asked nicely. Neal nodded en gave her a smirk.

"Yeah. I am not sick, just so you know. It's another thing I will tell you about when I am ready. Just… don't be afraid. It isn't contagious." His smile got bigger at that and the tense atmosphere around them eased a bit. "Glad to hear that, anyway," was Diana's reply and made a short glance at Peter. They shared a look that Neal didn't catch while he was gathering his things from his desk. As soon as his hands curled up on the stack of files Peter stopped him from taking them home. Neal startled at that and shot his partner a weird look.

"What did I do wrong, now?" Causing Peter to sigh before he glanced at his wife. El waited for some explanation as well.

"Neal. Take some rest first. That was a direct order from Hughes, remember?" he said with a soft voice that was only meant for Neal. Neal nodded halfhearted and let go of the stack. It surprised Diana, seeing Neal obey an order without a fuss.

"Well I was a bit worried that you were horribly sick or something but all and all you seems fine to me. Are you ready to go?" El asked friendly, since no one told her what was going on. Neal looked up at her with an apologetic smile. "Yes, I am ready, Elisabeth. And thank you so much for giving me a ride."

…

In the car, Neal got a bit uneasy and finally decided to tell her about his problem. To his surprise El took it very good. She told him about her uncle who had the same kind of disorder and knew exactly what he was going through somehow. It had made Neal feel a lot better and more understood than he was ever been. Of course she didn't mind to take him home and within a few minutes of just sitting in the Burkes best couch Neal dozed off with his hand still attached to Satchmo's hairy back. He must've been more exhausted then he first thought.

…

After a few hours of sleep Neal suddenly shook awake by a faint voice.

"Wake up, Danny. Your daddy is home." The voice said. Neal looked around the odd and unfamiliar place around him. "Mommy? Where are you? What time is it?"

"Neal? Too who were you talking, sweetie?" another voice sounded just besides him. Completely confused Neal looked at El for a moment. It took him a long time to remember her.

"Elisabeth… Sorry. I- ah... It was just a dream." But he knew right then he had experienced another hallucination.

…

AN: Finally another chapter. Did you like this one? I kept struggling with it until I got a migraine like the size of my mountain bike. Lol. Review me and I will send you cookies!...not. But review me anyway!

X

Josie


	5. Chapter 5

They were sitting in the small backyard, after lunch, when Neal suddenly dozed off again. He was just in the middle of a conversation about his favorite kind of yellow and how difficult it was to forge the lighter colors from a Degas painting, because the artist was very impatient and didn't wait for some colors to dry. The oil paintings of his were mostly done in a rush. And yet the brushworks were very delicate and his love for music and beautiful ballerinas could never be unnoticed in every painting he made. If you wanted to forge one of his works you had to not only listen to the classic music, but love it also. Just the way he did. Every single movement he made was done with a certain flow no one else could feel the way he did. And El just watched the former conman lit up when he told her he had figured the big other secret from this artist out once. She had asked what it was and Neal started to chuckle and then… passed out. So much for that little secret.

She just loves the stories he shared about his peculiar vision on paintings. Neal was a true artist but somehow he always made copies from the masters who already had made a name for themselves. Neal on the other hand had never shown anybody one piece of his own. She always wondered why.

It was her birthday next month and she kind of hoped that she could talk Neal into making a painting for her. She hadn't any idea what it had to be or how big. It doesn't really matter either. It only mattered to her that Neal would do that. She hadn't had the opportunity to ask him yet. And now it surly wasn't the time to ask him about her request.

"Neal? Are you sleeping again?" She asked to be sure. Of course Neal didn't answer. And as El bowed her head over the young man, just to be sure he really passed out in his chair, she started thinking about what had happened this morning. Neal talked to someone when he woke up from his sudden nap. He said something that made her feel uneasy. He was talking to his 'mommy'.

Neal's mommy? She never really thought about the fact that Neal had a past. A childhood. But now she thought about it. It made her crazy. A weird feeling crept up inside her. Maybe something happened to him when he was just an infant. But it was just a feeling...

Elisabeth didn't really know why she stood up and walked inside, but she suddenly found herself inside the kitchen with the phone in her hand; to call her husband. And so she did.

Despite Neal looked so much better after his nap on the couch she couldn't shake the feeling that she had to share her thoughts with the man she loved. Luckily her husband got on the line within seconds.

"_El, what's up? Is everything okay?" _A calm and yet slightly worried voice got to her ear. There were a lot of noises in the background so El suspected he just went into a meeting, or just came out of it. For a short moment she fumbled with her cell phone and took another look out of the window, seeing Neal sleeping in his chair with his hand again on Satchmo's fur.

"Yeah, everything is alright. Neal just fell asleep for the second time in a row."

"_Great… Oh wait. Did he 'fell' asleep? Like if he fainted or anything?"_

"No, Hon. But there is something else that I thought you should know about. And to be honest I don't like this at all. But I think he was trapped in some kind of hallucination this morning. I overheard him talking to someone. Neal was barely awake then and mentioned something to his… mother I think."

"_He did?" _the voice went from the other side of the line. _"What did he say?"_

"Well I didn't catch enough but he asked what time it was… But, honestly, that isn't why I called. The thing is that he sort of completely forgot where he was and it took him an awful long time to recognize me. That's concerns me, Peter. I think there is more than beneath the eye. And I don't think my company is the best cure for him right now. What he needs is someone else. Like... I don't know..."

"_His mother? No, El, his mother died when he was young. And I just found out that Neal happens to be the one that found her dead on the kitchen floor, El. Imagine that… Oh God, hon. Please. What he needs is some comfort. He needs… I am not good at this. But… I think he needs someone who loves him as much as his mother did. He isn't his normal old self. Neal has an appointment with a psychologist tomorrow. Some trauma must've caused this Narcolepsy somehow. We can't be sure but the therapist will figure that part out."_

"Oh poor Neal. No wonder he looked so hurt. That must've been terrible for him. I thought Narcolepsy was some sort of autoimmune disease. Can this disorder develope with some kind of emotional trauma? That's odd, Peter. And… Well… Does he have, you know, other relatives were he could turn too with this? Did he mention something about his family to you? What about his father?"

"_No, hon. Neal and I don't talk about that sort of stuff. Neal is very silent about his past. All I know is that his father was a cop. And Neal was taken in to custody when he was young. He doesn't like to talk about that so I never ask, you know? I think something really bad has happened to him and his family, hon. But I don't know anything yet. There isn't a thing about this in his file. But I am guessing this has to do something with a certain bald guy." _There was a short pause… El heard her husband sigh. She had the urge to do the same. Poor Neal. What had happened to him when he was a child?

"Yeah, He needs some comfort alright. The poor thing must be feeling so lost. No wonder he can't sleep at night."

"_Yeah… Just be yourself, hon. I am sure you will know what to do to make him feel less lost. Listen, I got to go. But I promise to be there before dinner, alright?"_

Moved about Peter's worried and warm words about his friend Elisabeth suddenly rolled her eyes at that little promise but figured Peter doesn't saw this so she gave a snort.

"We'll see. Don't make promises that you can't keep. You are too busy. Just come as soon as you can, okay? I will do my part, but I have a business too, remember. I was supposed to meet with a client at five. Guess I need to call that off."

There was a short pause on the other side of the line. Followed by another sigh.

"_Alright, I am sorry, El. I will be there when you need to go. Just keep an eye on him until I come relief you from watch-duty."_ That made Elisabeth smirk out of victory.

"Great. But Neal isn't that big of a problem. I was just saying that I had to call off my appointment. On the other hand. If you think you can leave the office? Sure, hon. It will make my day. So don't be late."

"_I promise you I will be there. Bye hon."_

And as soon as she ended the call, with a smile still plastered on her face, she heard a scream coming from the backyard. Startled, she dropped her phone by accident and looked around the corner, finding Neal. He was standing there with his hands on his head, eyes big and frantic. He barged in the kitchen and walked further into the living room. Completely lost and trapped in some kind of hallucination. First, he didn't notice her coming towards him but when she started to say his name Neal gasped and turned himself around.

"Where did you put it?" he asked. Clearly not fully present in this reality. It was a bit scary for El but since her uncle sometimes had these things too when he woke up after a sleeping fit, El practically knew what to do. _Just play along until he completely comes back in reality._

"What do you mean? Did you lose something?" El tried while putting one unsure hand on Neal's upper arm. Neal bit his lip his eyes were filled with fear and disgust. "The gun, of course," he shouts out to her with a frantic look on his face. A cold shiver went up her spine as she witnessed Neal starting to sob.

"I didn't like that thing into the first place. That's why I never used those. I got careless, and now I lost it!" Neal looked around and almost stumbled over the blond dog, who walked nervously around him. Somehow with the urge to protect his boss-lady.

"Weapons just kill," Neal went on. The look on his eyes was so unlike him. There was no control. His face was unguarded and filled with emotions. And yet… he looked so absent. Maybe he wasn't hallucinating this time. But just sleepwalking. Or wasn't that the same thing?

Her heart skipped a beat when Neal suddenly spun around and looked her right in the eyes.

"What does that make me? I am not using those. _He_ did. He didn't do it. And then he did. That's why we left… What should I believe? I wish I didn't run back then. He… made a mistake. I am not him. I will never be him! Gun… Gun. Where did I put it? You will just kill another person. It never saves." His hand curled up affront of his eyes to block El's compassionate gaze. He went from frantic to helplessly sad. His shoulders shook as he cried. "He left us. I loved him." El had to swallow a big lump, feeling the same kind of sadness within her despite the fact that she didn't follow him at all.

"I just wish I could say that to him, one day…" Neal didn't make sense. But one thing was sure. His feelings where so deep and very very real. This had to be true.

Elisabeth didn't know what to do than just stand there, making sure he didn't fall onto the ground adt hurt himself. And when Neal finally broke down Elisabeth grabbed his arm while sinking down with him; onto the carpet. His eyes were closed and he looked so weak. "W-what? Elisabeth? W-wha…" when Neal sat she grabbed his shoulders to steady him.

"Oh! Neal? Take it easy now, alright? That's it. Now, relax while I get you a glass of ice water. That will wake you up completely. I promise." She hated it to leave him alone for a bit. Neal looked so lost. And him telling her about guns wasn't something pleasant either. At least he didn't tell her that he actually had killed someone himself. That was a big relieve.

…

"I don't even have a gun. Nor killed someone either. You can relax, I am sure it was just a dream. And I wish I could remember anything what I just said to you. But whatever it is… I didn't mean it." Neal was now sitting in the couch drinking the ice water. It had helped. He was acting more like himself again. Neal was polite and kind. There wasn't even a speck of fear in his eyes anymore. El sat next to him and stroked small circles on his back. It was odd that Neal had let her do that.

"That is good. You are a good man, Neal. You should never doubt about that. And I can tell you that Peter and I will never ever doubt about this too."

Neal nodded.

"I thought I stopped dreaming. But now I am guessing I am still able to dream at night. I just couldn't remember them anymore. Somehow this makes me feel a lot better," Neal admitted softly.

He smiled while looking at the dog.

…

Peter had a hard time living up to his promise. He just about made it home around six minutes over five and found Elisabeth, fully dressed in her black trench coat and blue scarf. She was obviously getting late but however she made time for Peter to give him a lovingly kiss on his lips before she got out of the door. Neal pretended not to see this sweet moment and obvious tried to hide his huge smile when he noticed Peter's pink lips.

"Hey Peter. How was work? Don't I get a kiss?" he asked with a smirk. Peter didn't have a chance to reply because Satchmo was almost running in to him and greeted Peter happily. His blond tail was wagging like crazy. "Oh hey buddy, how you doing." Peter petted Satch on his head and walked further in the living room.

He had been thinking about Neal this whole day and now that he finally got the chance to see him, he actually was surprised at how he looked.

"Look at you. You look a little more like yourself, already. So I am guessing that hugging my dog helped." Neal nodded.

"Yeah. It always does, you know. Too bad Mozz doesn't like dogs. He wouldn't visit me anymore if I bought one of my own." Peter chuckled.

"I always thought you were more of a cat person." His hands disappeared in his pockets while he took his place onto the coffee table. Right affront of Neal. Neal shrugged.

"Cat's I like too. They all have their charm. But I like dogs more because they always depending on you and trusts their boss no matter what. Cats are more like my kind."

"Never to be trusted?" Peter blurred out. He didn't mean it like that. But somehow it made Neal laugh.

"That. And they never ask for something. They take whatever they want. and whenever they want. whatever they makes them happy. But eventually cats will come back at their boss for that one thing they needed the most. Affection. That one thing you can't take. Only **urn** by doing the good thing."

Peter nodded and thought about what his friend just had said.

"So what does a cat to urn such a thing like affection?" Neal took the last bit of his coffee, that El had made for him, and gave Peter a long stare.

"Be there on time." Neal smirked and set his empty cup down.

Now Peter started to laugh. Like there was no care in the world.

The evening was nice. Neal asked Peter to call Mozz over because he was probably wondering how he was doing. He came in when El just arrived also and they had a great time.

When everyone got tired and longed for their bed Neal was starting to be more alert than he was the whole day.

"You sure you don't want to stay over at our guestroom, Neal?" Elisabeth asked as the young man walked towards the door with his bald friend.

"There is no need to worry about him, when I am around, misses Suit. I will make sure he is okay."

"_He_ is standing over here, Mozz. But thank you Elisabeth for this great day. Good night. And I will make sure I get some sleep for the appointment tomorrow." Neal looked at Peter and Peter nodded. An odd glance from Neal was always enough for Peter to get worried that something was going to happen. He wasn't sure yet. But this was Neal Caffrey. And the agent knew how scared Neal was about this meeting.

"Good night, Neal. And Mozz. Be carefull." Now it was Mozzie's turn to snort.

He was actually afraid that he would do something stupid to prevent himself for going to this meeting. Maybe it was better for Neal to stay over at their place. But he couldn't just let the man stay over against his will. Besides, Neal was a grown man.

…

_Danny._

_Danny?_

"Hmm Mom?"

Neal mumbled as he rolled on his back. He was sleeping so nice just now.

"_Danny. You sleepyhead."_

A pale hand ruffled through his brown mob of hair. It was just a hallucination, Neal thought. But this time he felt it.

"_Danny Bennett. Wake up! It is time."_

Neal didn't want to. He didn't want to wake up Mozzie. He was sleeping so soundly. But it was his mom. He had to listen to her.

"Yeah. I am up." He rubbed through his eyes and stretched his body.

His mother, beautiful as ever, beckoned him to go with her. And so he did. He didn't even bother to get is slippers on first.

"Where are we going? Am I still dreaming?" Neal asked but he was already sure he was. Everything felt different. This was just a dream. A stupid little dream that he will forget by the time he wakes up again. he might as well ride this one out. Besides, he had missed her so much.

"_Come play outside, sweetie. It will do you some good." _

Neal followed her.

"Mom. Is this really necessary? It's kinda cold outside."

_"Stop whining. You're just like your father. Now come outside and play. After this I promise you some ice cream."_

Somehow this made him change his mind. He was graving for some ice cream. Sweet vanilla ice cream with little disco dots topping on top of it.

"Really? That actually sounds great!" he smiled. And then he opened the balcony door ready to play on his own. Like a good kid.

…

At night Mozz startled awake by a sudden cold wind. He jumped up from the couch and looked at the opened glass door towards the balcony. He was sure, Neal was there. Just watching the traffic again. So he got to his little feet and walked up on the balcony. Immediately shocked at the cold air outside Mozzie buried his face deeper into his vest and started looking for his friend.

"Mon fere? Neal?"

Nothing…

He walked around on the balcony but Neal wasn't there. Although it seemed. When Mozzie found the light switch from the little lamps outside, he suddenly saw the most scariest thing he had ever seen.

Neal was walking onto the edge of the balcony while humming an unfamiliar lullaby. His hands weren't even helping him balance the steps. He just walked over the edge without any thing to hold on. His feet were bare and his face was slack. There wasn't even a speck of emotion within his pale blue eyes. "I want the disco topping so bad, mommy. Can't wait for it actually," Mozzie heard him mumble.

That was when Mozz realized that Neal was trapped in some kind of sleepwalking hallucination.

For the first time in his life, Mozzie didn't know what to say to make this any better. He just watched his friend walk on the edge of his own death. Maybe he wasn't going to die when he fell of the edge. But it sure won't do him some good either. God! Why was he thinking about this stuff?

Do something!

Mozz gulped some amounts of air and took his phone. He was going to call 911 but when he wanted to, his hands started to shake and per accident he dialed 1. It was a speed dial to Peter who immediately answered. Mozzie's eyes never left his friend and as soon as he heard Peter's voice he almost choked in his words.

"Sorry.. T-to call you. But Neal is doing something stupid." Neal finally noticed him and turned around with an odd frown. "Mozz? W-what are you doing here?" he asked. And then he saw what he was doing. He startled! And slipped! And then… he fell backwards over the edge.

"No! Neal!"

One little glimpse of blue caught Mozzie's eyes before his friend vanished to the ground.

"NEAL!"

Mozzie was so shocked he dropped the phone and ran to the edge where he heard some traffic going wild down there. But it was too late. His best friend fell. And he couldn't do a thing to prevent him from doing this. He didn't even lift one single finger! Oh dear God! Let him be okay! Please! Mozzie got out of breath. He gathered himself to look down and then he saw his friend. Caught out of the sky. A man saved his fall. This can't be happening!

People were applauding and the man lowered his saved friend. Neal didn't move anymore. Without any other thought, Mozzie grabbed the phone and went downstairs to get to his friend.

His little heart almost burst out of his chest when he heard Neal's faint voice coming from one hand. He was on the phone. He had forgotten about the phone call with Peter. Wait… If Neal was on the phone…?

…

Meanwhile, Peter was hugging Neal so close that he could almost hear the young man gasp for air. If he hadn't listened to his heart he wasn't here on time to catch his friend out of the sky. '

It was a miracle.

Just like that.

Peter never was a believer. But now he could only think of one explanation.

"Now…y-you are just like a cat, Peter. You were just in time…" the dazed voice muffled. Peter was still hugging his saved friend and grinned at his well-placed semi-smart remark.

"I know… I had the feeling something was going to happen. El just basically had sent me away to get you." He wasn't even scared one bit. This just happened. And he was there. The rest didn't matter. He got the call from Mozz when he got out of his car, still not fully convinced he should be here instead of home.

Neal fell in his arms when he heard a scream coming from the balcony.

And things went on from there.

The door from June's house opened and Mozzie ran towards him. His face was so white that he almost glow some light into the darkness of the night. He was glad Neal didn't hurt himself. But the shock took a lot out of him. And he fell on his knees besides them.

"Oh good heavens, is he okay?" he asked, clearly out of breath. Finally Peter let the young man loose and Neal pushed himself up with his elbows. "I am a little confused. That's all. Otherwise I am fine. The adrenaline is keeping me from any pain. But I am sure that it will hurt in the morning. I am talking about my butt of course," Neal mumbled only half joking. He didn't fell onto the ground from that high. But when Peter caught him, they both fell onto the pavement. Peter landed on his back and Neal on his bum. They would have laughed if this wasn't that damn serious. Neal had almost accidently killed himself. And this would make things more serious than it already was.

…

TBC

...

AN: Typos included. sorry, I was in a rush. I will fix the mistakes of course. Review?

X

Josie


	6. Chapter 6

Apparently, some bystanders had called an ambulance and once it arrived, two guys immediately jumped out of the bus to check the falling man over. Mostly, with this kind of accidents, things would be a mess. They at least suspected to find broken bones on the guy. Or even some bad bruising's that usually leads to internal bleedings. But all they saw were three men sitting down on the pavement, practically alright and talking to each other like everything was okay. One of the fellows was jumping up from the ground when he noticed them coming towards them and obviously he wasn't the guy who fell.

"Hi, fellas. Which one of you fell from the balcony?" The older paramedic asked. He was slightly relieved that everything wasn't as bad as they both thought. He had it easy this whole shift. Nobody died in their car, which was the worst thing that could happen. Nobody got hurt that bad also. No one bled till dead, either. Or groaned in pain during their drive towards the ER.

And luckily this call (about a man who fell from the sky) didn't break the record of this nice and quiet day.

Peter gestured at the younger man on top of him and Neal razed his shaky hand as he grinned a bit.

"That would be me, sir," he said brightly and very much aware of this miracle of being saved.

"Everything alright?" the oldest paramedic asked again, as he kneeled beside them.

"I am doing fine. Just a bit dazed. And stunned. That's all," Neal answered in honesty. But this time his voice was shaking a bit.

Well, it was certainly amazing that Peter had managed to catch someone from falling of the balcony that high. There were no good explanations. Just a strong feeling that God had something to do with it.

Anyhow, Neal had grown very quiet by the time the paramedics were starting to ask him some direct questions about pain and numbness. After a while Neal didn't respond well anymore. All his color was drained from his cheeks and that got them all very suspicious.

Most of the eye witnesses were long gone by the time Peter got to his feet with some help. Still, all their eyes were on Neal when he suddenly started to shake uncontrollably. Maybe the adrenaline rush was starting to fade and the reality had finally kicked in, were Peter's thoughts at first. But then Neal started to gaze in to empty space and practically slumped down against the paramedic who was blinking a light in his widened pupils. It wasn't just that falling asleep thing. This time he really fainted.

"Okay, I think this guy needs a checkup in the hospital. We can patch up the scrapes on his hands but…" A quick eye contact was made between the two paramedics. And with a strong nod the youngest one got back to the bus to get the stretcher. "I am sure your friend is fine but I think we all sleep better tonight if he had a full exam at the hospital. And, with all due respect, sir. I think you need to get your back checked as well." Peter heaved a sigh when they eased Neal onto the stretcher with an oxygen mask on. The man was out.

"That's alright. I can drive behind you," Peter tried. But everyone and that includes Mozzie as well, objected to that idea.

"Fine, I'll drive with you, but Mozzie?"

"I got it, Suit. Go. I can handle it. I will call Elisabeth. Just don't let Neal get out of your site, please. Don't make the same mistake I did."

…

Except for that little hint of guilt, Mozzie kept quiet about what he saw before Neal fell of the balcony ranch. Peter somehow decided to do the same, against the doctors. Sure, for many reasons he had told the doctor, who examined Neal for injuries, that he suffered from Narcolepsy. In which Neal hated Peter for that, but didn't object to any suggestions the doctor had given him about wearing a helmet when it gets worse. Or start to take some new developed medicine that supposed to reduce the sleep attacks during the day. The pills would be ready about two days. And this could be a solution for the time being.

All in all Peter hoped so bad that Neal would recover from this scary disorder anyway, after he had some talk with a therapist. Neal can't go on like this! This had to stop. Right here right now.

All hopes were on the meeting with Mrs. Klimt, now.

…

One hour had past. Luckily nobody got hurt that bad.

They were fine, except for a few bruises, local soreness and some harmless scratches, of course.

Neal was so damn lucky to be alive. They were cool about it for some time, but after they got back from the hospital, the reality really started to sink in. Neal's hallucination had almost killed him. If it wasn't for Peter, this CI was now a cripple for life; or worse.

Speaking of…

While Peter was mostly fine, Neal was starting to feel the effects of falling on his butt and couldn't sit still without making weird faces. Eventually El noticed the trouble and brought him an icepack and Neal awkwardly sat on it. It helped though. "At least I didn't go blind from busting my coccyx," he said between gritted teeth. The pain eased fast. Causing Neal the take a deep relieving breath. And that was visible to the rest of them. For some reason Peter found himself laughing. And El, even Neal started to join him.

Mozzie was awful quiet, while stroking the fur of Satchmo.

Mozz was still very shocked from this event. The poor man couldn't stop shaking and Peter thought he made a good choice, taking him home. He couldn't just leave him hanging out there; all alone to God only knew where he was hanging out at night. El had offered Morocco Mint tea, after the shock of hearing all of it, and that seemed to do the trick.

The rest of the night the Burkes tried to let Neal talk about his past and Neal finally gave away a few things about his mother. He figured that they deserved it after what had happened. And to his surprise, it kind felt nice to speak up about his mother.

She was a nice pretty and classy woman. Sure she had some problems of her own. And she wasn't perfect. But to Neal she was his everything… Until she died. Then it was Ellen who was his everything. Neal didn't want to talk about her. But as soon as Elisabeth spoke here name his eyes watered. By then, the conversation changed into pleasant chitchat about art and Satchmo's puppy stories, all things that El knew Neal and Mozz loved to hear.

Of course nobody, except for the dog, slept that night.

…

And when the first sings of daylight showed, Peter jumped up from his sofa, surprised he had fallen asleep after all. For a minute he panicked and looked around, desperately searching for Neal. The man was still on the couch, eyes closed with his head listed slightly to one side with his breathing evenly. He must've fallen asleep, too. A grin crept up on his face.

Neal was fine.

Then Peter noticed the pleasant kitchen noises and Peter rubbed his eyes before he got to his feet. Some vertebrae made popping sounds as he stretched his back and finally felt some after pain from last night as well.

"Good morning, Mr. Suit. I was helping your wife with making you and sleeping beauty a delicious breakfast," Mozz announced while bowing dramatically polite, like some kind of kings slave.

"Thanks, that's great, Mozzie. But honestly, did you wash your hands first before you touched my toast?" El, beautiful as always shot Peter a dirty look, equal to Mozz's.

"Hon. Go, take a shower. Breakfast will be done in a minute." Peter pouted his lips.

"Don't I get a 'good morning kiss' first?" And before they know it, Mozz was out in the living room to check up on Neal; totally forgetting that he still clutched the wooden spoon. Peter watched how his wife's face softened and she was the one who started the kiss.

"Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?" Peter shrugged as soon as he had the chance.

"I did sleep. But it certainly wasn't well. How are you holding up? Did you manage to get a shut eye yourself?" Peter asked as he cupped his wife's face lovingly. Elisabeth looked a bit rough, but otherwise not as tired as a normal person would be after a long scary night.

"No. I didn't. But I had some good company. When you slept in we talked some more until Neal couldn't hold his eyes open either. So then Mozzie and I went on with the cards. Nothing special or anything. But I think Mozzie cheated let me win the game a couple of times."

"Well alright then. I am glad you guys get along great without my supervision," teased Peter with pursed lips. El snorted.

"Alright mister FBI. Go get ready. You almost overslept."

"Oh! Really?" Peter looked at his watch. The meeting with Dr. Klimt!

So Peter hurried upstairs, barking to Mozz that Neal has to wake up now. And so Mozzie did. As he bowed over the sleeping face of Neal, who was looking a bit uncomfortable on the couch by now, Mozz called his name once. He shut up in an instant and looked at him with big frantic blue eyes.

"What did I do now?" he slurred half awake and eased up when he noticed where he was.

"Whoa, take it easy, mon frère. It's just me, telling you that you need to eat some breakfast before you get into the appointment with Peter."

Neal basically reacted the same way as Peter did. He looked at his watch and started to hurry himself into his blazer and suit jacket that Mozzie had brought over.

…

Neal was getting anxious. This wasn't like him. It was odd. He couldn't hide anything. Not even the slightest discomfort from sitting on a big bruise from last night.

His big blue eyes explored the small room where he was locked in. Well… not exactly 'locked' in. But close.

_ I am not gonna cry this time. Oh no..._

Four eyes were staring at him and it must've been deadly quiet for a while. Because even Neal got tired of it. Peter got annoyed a while ago and started to tap with his fingers onto the tabletop.

The nice looking curly doctor stayed very still. She didn't move or do anything to get him talk. She only looked at him. Patiently waiting for him to start. It was weird and annoying but it kind of worked for him. Now, he only had to ignore her for another ten minutes and the meeting was over.

She seemed to care less how long it took before this giant wall between them broke. But between the eyes there was definitely forming a frown. Neal blinked at her strong gaze and suddenly felt Peter's foot kicking against his ankle. Maybe this was getting to nowhere; he decided and finally gave in to the doctor's gaze.

"I should start talking now, don't I?" Neal finally asked with an uncomfortable grin. Sweat was really forming on the sites of his skull by now.

The doctor shrugged her shoulders.

"Only if you're ready, Mr. Caffrey. I got paid with the hour so, If you like to continue like this, I really don't mind." _Well played_, Neal thought. _Well played. Now he could feel less important to her and actually wanted to talk to her, maybe win her over that he was indeed important._

"What should I say then? I am scared that my hallucinated mom would convince me to kill myself?" It was out before he knew it. And GOD Neal knew he couldn't take it back. Once you said something like this, to a therapist no less, it was official. Damned!

Peter actually made a choking sound when he heard this coming out of Neal. But the therapist only nodded. Actually pleased about herself that she once again could break a wall this high from a man like Neal.

Neal gulped hard as his eyes grew bigger than they already where.

_Damned Damned Damned!_

"Figure of speech, I mean," he tried with a smile and a shrug. But it didn't work.

How much Neal hated it… what he said was the truth. He was afraid…

He didn't dare to sleep. Not alone, for one. Not after last night.

Too bad he slept in everywhere at any time with his Narcolepsy. Even now his vision blurred, he longed for sleep. His hands where already numb. But he didn't pass out. Not after he saw Peter's whitened face watching at him with shock.

He asked Peter to stay with him during the meeting, otherwise Neal wouldn't come out of the bathroom where he had locked himself in when his emotions got too high; just a few minutes before they had to go.

"'M sorry…" he mumbled embarrassed of himself. Peter blew a sigh out of compassion. One look with Doctor Klimt was exchanged.

Neal looked at his numb hands onto the table. He felt so bad right now. He was fighting every urge to cry or something. Then a warm female hand fell on his fingers. Neal blinked at the hand. Figuring out if it was some sort of hallucination again. But it wasn't. It was Klimt.

"Neal. What you just said is no joke to me or Peter Burke. It is important to understand that this isn't something to apologize for, either. Nor feeling embarrassed about it. It is only the truth."

Neal blinked again. Still not letting himself pass out or cry.

"I am a mess. To me that is something to be ashamed off."

_Nope, still no tears… Good. Keep it that way, _he thought.

"Stop being so hard on yourself. Do you even know where Narcolepsy is coming from?"

_Man, am I distracted._

"Neal, stay focused," Peter mumbled annoyed and pinched his arm.

'Mister Caffrey. Narcolepsy is a disorder that develops when you are getting tired of putting on so many masks for the outside world that it exhausts you."

Neal bit his lip, ready to snort and letting her know this is bullshit. Then a big file dropped onto the table. _Where did that came from?_

"These are files about the researches of it. Some of them aren't proved by the jury yet. But some parts are."

Now both Neal and Peter were looking dazed by this. This meeting was turning out so different that they first thought. Anyway, now they were getting somewhere! Finally...

"Is this true? Where did you get this so fast?" Peter asked in great wonder. Meanwhile Neal was starting to turn some pages. Too bad his vision was still kinda blurry.

"There are tests running right now. In different states over the entire world and it all comes down to this: people who have it are all experiencing a very similar character flaw. They are never in this world. But only in the reality that they had created for themselves over the years. And keeping up that barrier against the world is taking a toll on you. Sometimes when a trauma is involved by these people the barrier seems to crackle and the symptoms of Narcolepsy are getting stronger."

Neal was staring at the files but didn't see a thing that was writing. But he heard every word Annabel just had said. He was moved by this. It actually made sense.

He had developed quite a bunch of other identities, for himself. He was a conmen. Even now they used his false name. He wasn't Neal Caffrey. He was Danny. Danny Benett. A shy boy who likes ice cream and playing outside. Yellow wasn't his favorite color. It was Green. He hated the smell of red wine. But he drank it like it was water. His favorite sport wasn't running. He liked to swim. Or playing catch. Neal was everything he really wasn't. But then again… who was he now? Danny was dead. He died along with Ellen. She was the last memory of his life before Neal Caffrey. Now there wasn't a way back…

Not anymore. Unless he would find his father soon. But what could he do for him? He wasn't even around when he grew up.

_Head hurts… _

"Neal? Drink some water, kid. It is cold," Peter offered him while squeezing his arm.

"Yeah… Yeah... I like ice cold. Thanks…" Neal mumbled halfway ready to pass out. But still… he didn't cry!

"_Listen to her… Maybe it's time to let go of Neal…" _a voice whispered softly. And this time Neal gladly recognized Ellen's voice instead of his mother.

And Annabel aswell as Peter only saw one short but wide smile on Neal's face before he suddenly slumped down onto the tabletop. Too late to catch him before he hurt his face, Peter pulled the man back and saw a little drop of blood slide from his nostril.

* * *

AN: i like turtles :D Oh wait, I have some comment on my chapter... When I was on a vacation in Belgium I found a big book in some random store. It's called: The key to self-liberation. And one chapter was all about the psychology behind Narcolepsy. Naturally I had to use it in this story. It was all about people who had to many masks to put on but never showed the real face. So, that fitted nice for Neal, right? Please leave a review..


	7. Chapter 7

Seeing someone collapse like how Neal just did, minutes ago, wasn't something you wanna see again. But it was far more worse if that someone didn't respond to your voice or shakings in order to wake him up. It was almost like somebody had cut all of his strings, like the strings from a marionette doll. It was making Peter so damn uncomfortable. He didn't know what to do and shot desperate looks towards the doctor. Luckily, Annabel did know what to do and used her jacket to make some sort of pillow that will support Neal's face a bit to make him at least more comfortable. Peter was holding Neal up all this time to stop his nose bleeds and finally eased him back on the tabletop when he thought it stopped. His palm never left Neal's upper back. Sometimes he rocked him regularly, but still to no success. Neal remained into darkness.

"Just so you know. This isn't normally how he falls asleep. And when he does he usually wakes up right after. Do you think he bumped his head to hard? Maybe gained a concussion?" Peter asked softly and yet very tense. He knew this was turning out bad for Neal's sake. The doctor would probably tell Hughes that Neal isn't capable of working here on the white collar division, anymore. Maybe she would suggest to Neal that he was a risk for himself and needs to get admitted to the psych unit for observation. No, he won't let that happen to his friend. Neal wasn't a nut case! He was just in mourning of Ellen's death. Sure he needed some professional help, he won't doubt about that. But honestly, come on! Neal Caffrey was a strong man. He could get over this.

Annabel Klimt shook her head and gave him a soft smile.

"I don't know. Let's hope not. He has enough on his mind already. Maybe we should do this conversation another time. When he's a bit more rested. But when we do, I prefer to do it at home. His home. Where he is more comfortable. Sometimes that has a more calm effect on people." She started to reach in her pant pocket and handled her business card over to Peter.

"Tell him he needs to make another appointment tomorrow, when he is at his fittest. I am not a bad person, Peter Burke. Not every shrink is. Tell him that, too. I just want to help." She smiled again. "He can return my jacket then."

Peter nodded his thanks. She was indeed the best shrink he ever met. Well... to be honest… it was the first one… but still.

"Thank you Mrs. Klimt. I will tell him that. But… what should I do now?" Peter asked really incapable of handling his comatose sleeping friend. Annabel chuckled.

"Relax agent Burke. I am pretty sure he is doing just fine. Mr. Caffrey is just sleeping. But if you are worrying about a concussion, you should get him checked. I am a doctor but not that kind of a doctor."

Peter nodded. But when he saw Annabel leave, he remembered something.

"Uh, Mrs. Klimt? About that research. Can I get a copy of what you said about the psychical causes of Narcolepsy? You know... about what you have said to him. I know it is against regulations. But Neal really needs some answers. And I am thinking this is really going to help if he reads about it by himself."

Annabel gave it a thought. Her file was carefully putted away in her suitcase after Neal collapsed. But after some considerations she gave Peter a nod and opened up the suitcase and started to turn some pages.

"I tell you what, agent Burke. You get the original file about my own research report. But only if you promise to keep this under the table. This research isn't done yet. And It's only meant for Neal's eyes only. You may look also. But you need to keep this quiet, alright? That is the least you can do after I choose to ignore this little incident with Neal." She looked at Peter with a firm glance and Peter nodded. He understood it. She took a big risk ignoring Neal's words. If this was going south, she will get fired for not noticing Neal's semi-suicidal mental state earlier. She obviously did this to protect Neal. She just had given him a second chance. And Peter appreciated it so much. He didn't want to lose his best friend as they locked him up either in a white room or back to prison.

Peter held the file in his hand while looking down on the back of Neal's head. He was still sleeping. Not even moved one inch. "Thank you." It was all Peter could say. And soon, Annabel Klimt was gone. Leaving Peter behind like this.

He lays the file onto the desk and got to his seat to look at Neal's sleeping face, once more. Neal was still out. His nose had stopped bleeding a while ago and it wasn't that bad at all. "Neal… why are you still sleeping, buddy? Can't you just wake up? I have something for you to read on," Peter tried in his friendliest voice. Like if he was talking to a four year old kid. But Neal still didn't wake up.

"It's a file from that nice doctor. Neal? What is going on in there? Come on, kid. Wake up." Peter rocked him a little harder this time. But it was no use. "Fine. I will read the file for you. And if you still not waking up, I will call an ambulance. You are not well." Peter knew he was scaring him with that. Neal hated the hospital. "Maybe they will give you some shots after." Peter rambled on as he started to open the file. Finally he let go of Neal's back and frowned.

"I will start reading now. So ears up. Here we go." Peter scraped his throat.

"_Dear sleepy one… _what the hell? Sorry. That's not what it says. Anyway…" Peter looked back at Neal's closed eyes. They were moving a bit from under the lids, now. So Peter decided to go on, since it was kinda working.

"_You ignore all the essence of yourself. You get out of breath: because you don't have the energy left from you powerful ME. You are belittling yourself. You are playing someone else in life. Someone you wanted to be. And you are losing the ME-power by this absurd roll playing game once you wear this mask. It takes over. You are losing control. Maybe you exhaust yourself with living up to the expatiations of others, in the outside world. 'Am I doing this right? What are they thinking of me now?' You, my dear sleepy friend, are suppressing that gentle spirit within you. You are behaving like a warrior. A big guy against all evil. A lion, someone you are living up to. You play that someone you want to be. And sooner or later it takes his toll." _Neal moaned in his sleep but still didn't wake up. Peter smiled fondly when Neal snuggled deeper in his handmade pillow. One hand was holding his back again and this time Peter started to stroke small circles to give him some comfort. Neal was obvious in some kind of struggle.

"_You are living on the surface too much; your true talents can't get through. You are afraid to be yourself. The ground from under your feet is starting to fade, day by day. All because you don't want to open up to the world. You are welcome. No matter what. Stop this insane task of standing too tall. You are not living! Your death to your true source-there is no contact; worried instead of trusting your deepest self. You hide, you fight against emotions. Push everything away; not believing that showing your heart is actually the biggest power of all. Don't be afraid. Dare to challenge someone with telling about your deepest fear. It will not only give you the respect you wanted most. But it gives you the self-respect you needed a long time ago. Being yourself gives you your power back. Stop being such a coward, and let everyone see what kind of hero you really are. Without your masks and made up imago. Image is not everything… It is just a shadow._

_Kind regards,_

_Your friend." _

Peter was actually surprised to read this weird letter when he was suspecting something else. But somehow it had a strong and basically the same message to Neal Caffrey.

And when Peter had put this letter away, and back into the file that was given to him, he felt some movement from under his hand. Neal was shifting. At last. "L-love to be here…" Neal whispered so soft that Peter had missed it.

Still, his eyes weren't fully open but he was getting there. He moaned again and stretched his hands over the table as he wringed his eyes. Peter pulled back his hand en watched him patently. A small smile was on his lips. "Neal?... Neal. Are you awake yet?"

"Wh're 'm I?" Neal mumbled confused but louder. He started to straighten his back slowly. Peter had never seen his friend so sleepy and dazed before. Oh wait… He did. Once. When he was heavily sedated during that insane kidney-case.

"Man, you are acting like a grandpa, Neal. Get over it already." Peter meant it as a joke and fought the urge to smack him in his face a few times. And then it hit him. Two big bright blue orbs shooting up at him. "What?" Neal spat out really scared. He tried to get as far away from Peter as possible. "Stop touching me!" Peter's heart just froze. What was happening now?

"Neal? Wow relax. It's just me, Peter? Your friend?" now Peter got up from his seat with razed hands like Neal was holding him at gunpoint. It was odd to see a difference in Neal's face like that. His eyes were all over the place as he tried to figure out where he was. Soon he had found the door and walked to it, with his back against the wall so that he could watch the stranger's movements.

"Neal, where you going, buddy? Are you sleepwalking? El told me about your weird performance back at our house. You were talking about guns." Neal's hand was on the doorknob and found out that the door wasn't locked. So he wasn't a prisoner. He relaxed a bit but still wasn't sure of anything. "Who are you?" he asked to Peter. His voice was higher than usual.

"O god," Peter gulped. "You are not having some kind of concussion are you? From you little face plant earlier?" Because, that would be awkward to explain to the doctors. But Neal shook his head. "No, Sir. I still know what one plus one is." His face was honest. And almost innocent. "D-did I bump my head?" he asked again.

Peter was so confused by Neal's behavior that he just nodded. He watched how Neal let go of the doorknob and stroke his face to find some blood or something. He looked at his fingers for a while and that gave Peter enough time to walk towards him. Neal wasn't in this reality. And just like El said, it was indeed very scary. Now, Neal wasn't afraid to get captured by him anymore. He was now totally focused on his own hands. "My hands. Why are they so big? Please, sir? Could you call my caretaker for me? Her number is in my lunchbox. Next to my pen, onto the desk." His bright blue eyes looked up at Peter's in total innocence. "Her name is Ellen." He said it with a warm smile. And Peter didn't know what to do just now.

"Uh… sure… Neal. Yeah. Go sit onto the chair." He leaded Neal back to the chair, glad that Neal did what he was told. "She might be working and catch the bad guys but if you call, she comes. She always does." Again, Peter nodded. He was pretty sure what was going on, right now.

"What do I tell her? Are you feeling sick?" For a short moment Neal visually considered something to say, but then shook his head.

"Not really. I just have a strong feeling that I don't belong here. Something must be wrong," where Neal's words. Spoken as a five year old boy. Peter heaved a sigh. "Got that right, buddy," he mumbled. He was going to tell Little Neal that he was confusing himself because he most likely was stuck in some kind of hallucination. But right at that moment a knock on the door was startling them both. It was Jones who suddenly barged in the room with a file in his hand. He didn't make eye contact with Neal nor Peter. He just opened up the file affront of him and pointed something out. If only he had watched the epic awkward face of Peter, being very protective about Neal's current weird mental state.

"Peter, Sorry to intrude the secret meeting club with Sleeping Beauty, but I saw the doctor leave and just figured that you guys were done. I deed to borrow your expertise on this file. Some probie wrote something on it and I can't figure out what is says. Pretty dumb, right? Writing on a case file. Hughes would be pissed." Jones chuckled and still hadn't seen the look on Peter's face.

"Jones, if you mind. Now isn't the best time," Peter said between gritted teeth. That got Jones attention. Peter gestured at the grown little Neal sitting patiently in his chair. He started to make a cute chuckling sound; something that Peter and Jones never heard him do.

"What's a probie?" Neal suddenly asked. Still not out of it. It made them make weird faces until Neal blinked suspiciously.

"Ellen isn't coming, is she?" he asked uncertain. Feeling a bit betrayed by Peter's promises.

"Peter?" Jones asked for some kind of explanation what had happen to the CI during the appointment with the shrink. "What did she do to him?" he whispered while looking at the sad face of Neal.

Peter just shrugged his shoulders. Because he didn't have an answer. Normally, a hallucination after a sleep attack usually didn't take this long. Or would it? He had the urge to call his wife about this.

"Jones, stay with him, he thinks he is at school or something. He is stuck in some sort of hallucination. So I have to call my wife. I'll be out here, for just a sec." Jones frowned.

"Alright. I'll watch him." Still, Jones could believe this. Was Neal really that messed up, right now?

…

El said it would take only a few minutes at most. But she pointed out right away that she wasn't an expert…

Neal didn't change.

The only thing he did was annoy them by asking way to many questions about everything he saw. Just like a five year old boy would do. First it was all cute and amusing. Even to Jones who was happy to see this sight of Neal for a change. But after some time it got a bit scary because the former conman was still very much waiting for Ellen to pick him up.

So after one full hour of waiting Peter reported to Reese that Neal wasn't himself and needed some help to get home safely. Peter took him straight to his house, still kind of hoping Neal would snap back in this reality. But he didn't.

After a few calls to the office and the US Marshalls about Neal would be staying over at his place for a while, he got Neal finally upstairs in to the guestroom and convinced him to get some sleep. Maybe after another nap he would be back to his self again. But just to be safe, he locked his room from the outside and got to his own bedroom and sat on the edge of his bedside to get some work done while guarding the guestroom door. When he rummaged through his suitcase, one case file from Doctor Klimt got his attention. He started reading some other stuff about the investigation that she was running about sleeping disorders. It where all speculations and things that Peter didn't understand. Maybe Neal does, when he is a bit more sane again, he thought.

The letter he read out loud to Neal popped up again. His brown eyes got over the text over and over again. Some of the thing where just like direct words to Neal specific. It all fitted somehow.

Peter started to wonder if Neal had heard the words he was reading to him back then. Or needed he to do this for him again? What if Neal stayed like this? What if Neal's next step wasn't just a harmless talk to a psychologist? But a night in a straightjacket inside some institution? Peter felt sick when he got the image about a lost Neal, drugged up and unsure what was going on around him. That would be the day that Peter would cry. And he had never done it. Never.

…

AN: Okay. That letter where some translated pieces of that Dutch book I was telling you about. And the actual meaning of this is all about learning from your Me-power. Very new-age-y, But to be honest. There are some strong words spoken in this book. The writer is: Christiane Beerlandt. If you want, look it up ;) Further: Yes I was very quick with writing another chapter this day :)

Please review.


	8. Chapter 8

Peter never was so freaking relieved when he heard the back door closing. His wife finally got home from her meeting with another client. He didn't bother calling her ahead about having a guest for dinner tonight. He simply figured that Elisabeth would already suspect it.

And he was right. Because when he runs downstairs, to greet his wife, he saw the fancy groceries she bought on her way home. All things Neal would love.

"Hon, you're here. I am so glad to see you," Peter hugged her with a strong grip. All the emotions about the different Neal he met fell off his shoulders. "I missed you so much," Peter mumbled again. A soft chuckle came from El and tried to get away, because he was almost squeezing her flat.

"Hi. Wow, Hon. Take it easy. What has gotten in to you? Are you alright?" she asked; immediately suspecting some kind of trouble. "How is Neal?"

"Oh El, you won't believe it, poor Neal embarrassed himself affront of the psychologist. He said something that frightened me so much. And this could be an end to his whole deal, if Doctor Klimt hadn't decided to give him another chance. He don't know how lucky he is for having that face. Otherwise… Oh hon. It was so painful for me to watch him shatter." El frowned at Peter's tone. She had never seen him this upset before. "Peter? What happened? Where is Neal?" Finally Peter broke his needy bear-hug and pointed his chin towards the stairs.

"I locked him in the guestroom for his own sake," he said a bit of guilt. Elisabeth didn't like the sound of it at all. So she shot him a disapproving look.

"You did what now? Hon, that's cruel. He isn't an animal. Would you lock up Satchmo like that?" Peter knew he was wrong but she hadn't seen him this scary yet. As El was on her way upstairs Peter grabbed her hand softly. And of course she stopped.

"Hon I can explain. When I called you earlier, Jones and I were dealing with one really confused Neal, stuck in some kind of reality where he was just a kid, waiting on Ellen to pick him up from elementary school. He acted like a kid, El. A kid. I followed your advice, talked with him and play along until he would come out of it completely. But the thing is… he didn't. So one hour later I brought him home and upstairs to let him get some sleep and Neal gladly did. And since little-insane Neal is still just good old-bad-and-smart Neal, I was afraid that he would bail out of his room and do something stupid, like the last time. It was just a precaution, hon. He even didn't notice, because he was asleep." El heaved a sigh and no she was the one who felt a bit stupid. With one hand se rubbed her eyes.

"Of course, he fell of the balcony. Right. It was very responsible to think ahead, Peter. I am sorry. You are the only one who knows Neal the best."

Peter chuckled. El looked so exhausted right now.

"It's okay, Hon. You didn't get any sleep last night, remember? You know what? Get some rest. It sounds like you need it. And by the time Neal is awake we will deal with it later. How's that sound?" Elisabeth nodded with a longing smile, thinking about her soft pillow and got upstairs. But when she was close to the guestroom she couldn't miss the sobbing sounds coming from behind the door. It where soft sniffles and hiccups and that said enough. With giving it another thought she opened the door, finding out that it was dark. The curtains were closed. But the bed was empty. The sobs where coming from under the bed.

"Neal?" she tried while walking carefully into the room. Behind her, Peter switched on the light.

"Where the hell is he?" Peter whispered. Then a hand came from under the bedframe.

"Please let me go home, sir. Ellen must be worried sick about me right now. Do you even know she is a cop? She will hurt you two for what you did to me!" a high pitched voice yelled out at them. "Let me call Ellen! I wanna go home. Please. Let me go home!" again Neal hiccupped and sniffled and almost drowned in his tears. El felt the urge to grab Peter's hand. This was so sad. No wonder Peter was so glad to see her. Peter never was good at talking to 'kids'. The poor thing. He must be so afraid right now.

"How does he even get under the bed?" Peter was amazed.

Elisabeth not so much, she just wanted this poor Neal out of there. So she got to his knees and tried to look under the bed.

"Sweetie? Are you stuck?" she asked first, because that was possible. Considering that Neal was a grown man and even her vacuum cleaner could reach their completely.

As an answer, Neal stopped crying for only a second and wriggled himself a bit more towards her voice. Finally they both saw two red-rimmed eyes peering up from the shadow. "No," he said in honesty. In a way he sounded so cute. Despite his tears and angst, El started to smile at him. He got on with the sniffles, but he finally stopped producing tears like a factory.

"That's good. Well. You think you can get away from there? Without help?" she spoke like she was talking to a child and to Peter's surprise Neal responded really well on her. And he nodded right away and got out from under the bed. He had to squeeze hard but he managed to get out fast. His expansive suit pants, though, had to go to a dry cleaner after this. It was wrinkled as hell. For precaution Peter had taken of his shoes, tie and suit jacket before Neal went to bed.

So there he stood, shifting his legs and acting so shy around them. His cheeks still red from all that crying. El got to her feet also and smiled warmly at the man.

"There you are. Look at you! You are such a mess, mister. Let's clean your face up in the bathroom. You have snot everywhere." El stuck her hand out and Neal just automatically hooked in and they got to the bathroom. Leaving a very astonished Peter behind. Why was his wife so good at everything?

He huffed and walked downstairs. Satchmo was standing at the foot of the stairs happily wagging his tail at him.

It was all great with Neal but… His nap hadn't helped. Neal was still stuck in a different world. He was still a kid somehow. And this would mean that Neal wasn't fine anymore. They can't keep him here. It was dangerous. Not only for them but for himself too. He needed some help. Some real help. This has gotten too far already. Narcolepsy was nothing like this. Now they had to deal with a traumatized grown man who thought he was still just a kid.

This was something else that Peter had to care of. Maybe the first step would be calling Dr. Klimt now. But first he had to talk this one over with El first. Because, when he would make that step, the future of his friend would change in an instant. This was so hard for him to see his friend fall that fast. Only a few months ago he'd made a joke about Neal being even crazier than Mozzie was, sometimes. Neal had laughed and told him, with his big blue eyes, while sipping down on some Italian roast, that Peter had now idea. He grinned. And Peter found it very funny then. Then… Not anymore. That got Peter thinking. How many times had Neal actual speak the truth to him when Peter thought he was making some sort of a joke? Neal often talked about crazy stuff that Peter just ignored it with a comment about spending too much time with the bald guy.

No, Neal wasn't crazy. He was just a little confused. And great thinkers had always some kind of a disorder. Think about Albert Einstein, for example. Not that he would compare that man with Neal. Nope, never going to happen. Not while Neal would take it like a huge compliment. It will just encourage him to do more craze up stuff.

By the time Elisabeth had brought Neal over to the kitchen to get some food in him because he didn't had some lunch nor breakfast yet, Peter looked her in the eye and something about it made her feel uneasy while returning this deep gaze. She knew what was going to happen. She understood his signal. Neal needed to see a doctor. The doctor needed to come here. even if every muscle in her body would tense up with thinking about it. This had to be done.

It hurts so bad, seeing Neal grin as he found the strawberries on his plate, because he loved them so much. He was so pure right now. El knew this man wasn't crazy. He was just being himself. Without his mask he had put on over the years. He was just a kid. A sweet polite kid with the heart of an angel. Too bad they couldn't keep him like this. He needed to chance back into his old self, fast. Otherwise they will lock him up like an animal. And that would make this pure and innocent man only worse.

Her hand automatically started to caress through his tousled mob of hair, like a mother does.

"You like strawberries, don't you?" Neal nodded and looked at her with the sweetest smile she had ever seen on him.

"I do. And I didn't even know it. Is that weird? Haha. Thanks!" He popped another strawberry in his mouth and looked at Peter of a moment.

"Want some too, sir?" he asked polite. Peter chuckled despite the hidden tears. Tears that were hidden on the back of his eyes; waiting to be shed, when they were taking him away.

"No, buddy. They are all yours." Neal nodded and proceeded with his fruity lunch. That gave Peter enough time to give El the business card from Neal's doctor. El took it, looked at it with a sad face and nodded before getting out of the kitchen. Peter tried not to hear his wife making the call to come right away. But it was hard not to listen to her faint sob.

Why where they so sad? Sure they loved Neal. He has always been a great guy to them. But something weird has happen between them. Something beautiful, yet extraordinary. Neal was more than a friend to them. More than just Peter's responsibility. It was more like family. Neal was like family.

"Guess what," Little Neal suddenly said with a bright grin.

"What," Peter asked a bit dazed from his inner-thoughts.

"Chicken butt!" he said and giggled sweetly.

That made him actually laugh. This is just how it is. Neal is family. No matter what. And they needed to take care of him. Just like families do.

Now Neal was just a kid enjoying his lunch. So he might as well enjoy it too, while he still can. Because tonight Neal had to face some evil. And that won't be fun.

"Oh you are a funny dude are ya'?" Peter now said with a forced smile. His hand ruffled through his brown curly hair.

…

Little Neal asked for a paper to draw on, after lunch. So Elisabeth gave him some stuff to draw with. Neal said his thanks and lowered himself onto the ground right affront of the dog. He started sketching the ears first and El was kind of curious how it would turn out. "Wow, I like it already," she said amazed about the few lines that already had some sort of great effect in it. Neal chuckled.

"When I am done you can have it. And then I will make another one for Ellen. She would want to see your dog, too. Ellen has a big fridge. She always tells me there is stil to many empty spots to fill with my drawings." Elisabeth smiled again. He was such a sweet boy.

He was calm and quiet. Not making any trouble.

The doctor would be here soon to observe him for a while. She won't do a thing, yet. But her rapport needed to be read by the US Marshalls, Hughes and of course another doctor from the nearest institution in Manhattan.

Mozzie was called by Peter and they sat in the garden, talking about Neal's problems. Peter had to know more about him in order to give the doctors the right answers. The fact was that Neal was so good at hiding things from one and another that even Mozzie didn't know everything.

Mozzie had met him when Neal just got in New York. He had his own place. But it wasn't much. He was basically broke but well talented with forging bonds. After some time and a lot of stories and wine Neal had told him his mother had a weak heart. One day she was cocking Neal some dinner and had an attack. Neal was upstairs when that happened. She tried to get to the phone but she collapsed onto the ground and died while trying to reach the phone. Neal got suspicious when the smoke alarm went off above the kitchen stove. So he ran downstairs, to asks his mommy what was wrong?... He was only five years old.

"Neal doesn't know he told me this. We where both kinda drunk back then. But I remembered. I always remembered it. That's why I kept an eye on him. Just like a big brother would. I felt responsible for him." Peter nodded as he felt sick about this image he got. A little Neal finding his mother there, not knowing what to do. He still couldn't get use to this story. Poor Neal.

"Neal's father was caught up in jail when he was only three years old, so he hadn't any help from him, or even a slightest memory of his father. I don't know much about the rest of it. But I assume that you know." Mozzie was very serious and helpful to Peter. He had underestimated him a lot of times in the past. He never trusted him since the day they met in an awkward way. But now, things were different. They both shared the same kind of love for their friend, or brother.

"Ellen was an important person in his past. He changed after her death. His hallucinations, the Narcolepsy… It all adds up to his loss," Peter said. Now sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. Mozzie heaved a sigh as he rubbed his forehead.

"I really hope he is getting out of it. I've never seen him like this before. Not even at the time we were visiting the museums in Amsterdam. And found out that they don't serve coffee in coffeeshops." Peter snorted. "You are such a hippie, Mozz." Mozz chuckled.

"Back then, I was. But that was twelve years ago. Now I've moved up in society, my friend. I am talking to a suit now am I?"

"Yeah, that's true. And thanks for being this honest with me about Neal's past. I really appreciated."

"I know, Suit. Guess the kid turned my opinion about you. Just like you did about me because of him, obviously. Now let's just hope Neal would be alright." Peter thought about that one. Neal does have good mediation skills. Unconsciously he started to nod.

"… Yeah…"

That was the moment their conversation died. At the same moment the doorbell rang and they knew it was time. The doctor was here. Mozzie disappeared in an instant while Peter got inside. Elisabeth was already at the door to let the doctor in.

Neal just finished his artwork about Satchmo and startled when the dog suddenly barked once at the unknown scent.

…

When the small talk was done and Annabel told them what she was going to do now, Neal got used to the unknown lady and proceed with his artwork to sign it with his name. Everyone got very quiet when Neal hummed a little lullaby before he put his pencil down.

"There. I signed it like a pro!" he said happily. He was still kind of locked in his own reality. Still sitting onto the floor, with the dog. And still in wrinkled cloths and dirty hands from the pencils. El watched at the drawing and was visibly blown away about this quality work.

"Oh my goodness, sweetie, that's amazing. Finally we get to see an official Neal Caffrey." Everyone agreed. But Neal was not happy. He got up from the ground and shook his head.

"No, ma'am. Not a Caffrey. A Real Neal Bennett. Look. I wrote it there." Neal pointed out his signature. "Not Caffrey. Bennett. See?" he said again. Peter blinked surprised.

"Wasn't that his original last name before he went into witness protection?" he mumbled out loud. The doctor, apparently aware of some of Neal's background, shook her head.

"Actually it was Danny Bennett." Only Elisabeth saw Neal's frantic face and stopped this by chuckling friendly. "Either way, Neal. This drawing is perfect! If you don't mind I want to keep this and put it in a frame." She got up and hugged the grown man like it was her son and Neal gladly returned the hug.

"Cool, just like a real artist."

"Exactly like a real artist."

When Neal was out to the kitchen to get another paper El shot a warning look at Peter. Peter got it. They shouldn't talk about his past when Neal was right with them. Sure the doctor knew what she was doing but Peter had to be careful. This wasn't some kind of a cold interrogation. This was about a fragile boy who lost all of his relatives. And the way Neal just looked at her; she knew that Neal was still in there somewhere. Neal knew what was going on. He just tried to get around it in his traumatic memories in his own way. Either way, Elisabeth loved him no matter what. And would never give him the feeling that he was crazy; or anything near it. He was just himself. Either Caffrey or Bennett. It doesn't matter to her.

He was family.

"Neal is acting like this after he had a sleep attack during our meeting, right?" Annabel suddenly asked to Peter. There was a frown on her normally smooth face. Peter nodded.

"Yeah, you were there when it happened."

The doctor nodded, but clearly something was bothering her.

"What about it?" El asked, shooting a quick look at Neal who was still trying to get the paper of the sketch block without shredding the top.

"Did he have another fit after that? Or even looked tired?"

"Oh shoot! You have a point there. He didn't. He is very much awake and alert this whole time. He kept himself busy this whole time." Peter blinked at his wife. "I took him upstairs earlier when we got home, he did sleep; but after that nap he wasn't even close to a single yawn." El nodded her agreement.

"This is true. He does seem alert to me."

Annabel smiled and gave the Burkes a pleased nod.

"Well. That's what I thought. The wall has broken down. All the shattered pieces from his past need to get fixed first before he can put them back together again his old self. It would be a long road with a lot of turns and curves. But I assure you, he will be fine, eventually. This short period of time proves it."

There was a short silence. Peter did know what was coming next.

"There is a but coming," Peter mumbled out loud.

"But… before he gets there, he needs to be in observation for a short period of time. I know a doctor who is very experienced with this kind of situations. Neal is a good man. I can see he isn't violent or aggressive to anyone, nor to himself. So I assure you Neal don't have to wear a straightjacket. He doesn't need it."

A small relieve, but still… Locked up like an animal when he is in need for love and affection?

"Does he get a room or would he be stuck on a bed like in the movies?" Peter asked frantic. He hated this idea into the first place. Again Annabel chuckled.

"No Peter. He gets a nice room. And he will be there just for one night and one day to get an impression about him. Once a rapport is finished Neal can go home. And then we will figure out what kind of therapy suits him the most. The worst case scenario is that Neal would get some sort of panic attack during this period and they have to sedate him. It is hospital policy, but that won't be the case for Neal." That made Neal winch, but no one heard it except for Satchmo who blinked sympathetically.

"Can we visit him during the period of this observation?" El asked while watching Neal start again with another drawing, totally trying to ignore them.

"Of course. But there would be taken some footage as well."

"When will this start?" Peter asked, now seeing the first lines of his face onto the paper. Neal was drawing him now. That only made things feel worse.

"Tonight. I have to make a call first to ask if there are any spots available in the hospital in Manhattan. But I suggest you to get his bag packed before eight. I would return with some forms first and then we all go together. It is really not a big of a deal. So don't worry too much about it. This is just a routine observation."

Not a big of a deal? Is she crazy? Neal was going to the nuthouse!

Neal dropped his pencil. As if he knew what Peter was thinking.

His big blue yes got his brown ones and Neal looked like he was waiting on something for him to do or say. This time Peter wasn't sure what Neal meant. This stare took a few second, and after this Neal bit his lip, took his pencil up and got back to work. Oh yeah… the drawing. Maybe Neal was looking at him for the portrait. It was turning out nice, he saw. But something was off about his expression Neal was drawing. Peter looked happy instead of sad. He just figured he looked sad because he felt like hell. Maybe Neal didn't like that look. Just like the old Neal hated his all-knowing grin or the stern kind of look. Anyway. Who cares about his weird freaking faces!? Neal would be admitted this night! It was like a nightmare came thru.

TBC.

AN: Guess what? Chicken butt! Lol, I loved that fragment. It was so cute and nice between the sad thought of Peter. Let's just hope everything turns out nice for them all. Review please :)


	9. Chapter 9

It was the drive to June's house when Elisabeth noticed what Neal was doing from the backseat.

She saw in the mirror that Neal was making some sort of mental notes on every turn or sign they came across. He was mapping his way from where they took him. No wonder he was this quiet for so long!

That got Elisabeth thinking. Neal needs to understand that he was safe with them. He needed to know that they were his actual friends; and that they wish the best for him. So she heaved a sigh and then turned her towards the man on the backseat as far as she could. Neal didn't notice her until she began to talk.

"Sweetie? Do you still think we're going to hurt you?" Neal startled at her voice and looked in her eyes while shaking his head automatically. Then his eyes sunk to the floor as he began to nod in total honest, because Neal must've felt some compassion by not trusting them yet. He didn't say a thing when they took him along for this thirty minute drive. And they didn't bother him either. But Peter and Elisabeth were pretty sure that Neal was afraid that they were kidnapping him, away from school. Away from his former life with Ellen. Away from everything that was familiar to him.

"So you don't trust us the way we do?" Neal bit his lip, feeling sad for them.

"Please, ma'am. I-I like you and Peter, too. But I want to go back to Ellen now."

Elisabeth caught a glimpse from Peter's brown eyes as he shot her a concerned look. Both didn't know what to say to this.

Neal thought he was just a kid. With the shock of telling him what happened to Ellen would be devastating for his already fragile mind.

For a second Elisabeth thought back to that little moment when she basically dragged him over towards the bathroom, to wash up his face after Neal's earlier crying spell. Neal saw his own reflection in the mirror and got really shy. It was almost like he didn't even trust his own eyes anymore. El didn't say a thing about it because she figured that she only made it worse, otherwise. But it had hit her right in the face. For Neal, this all must've been one hell of a scary dream. He was so lost in this reality. There was no place for him to hide from himself, anymore. And that was hard for him to get used to. If the doctor was right, Neal had hidden himself behind a couple of masks, for a long time. And maybe he had forgotten about his real self. Even now, when she just had asked him something Neal didn't exactly know what to say. He seemed so oncomfortabel with using his voice. Without his Caffrey-mask he seems so lost with this skill, and everyone could see that. The poor man was so shy. So embarrassed and insecure of himself.

It wasn't hard, for Elisabeth, to imagine how Neal must feel right now. And all that El could think of to let him feel less lost, was letting this poor young man know how much she and Peter loved him. And that he wasn't alone.

"I know, sweetie. Ellen was a great woman. We will bring you to her as soon as you come back from the doctor, tomorrow evening. And we talked about that already, remember?" Neal frowned suspiciously as he took in her words and sweet smile. Despite his distrust he nodded softly. But his hands clutched the door latch firmly; ready to jump out when necessary.

They had talked about it on the way towards that big white house. And Neal was aware what would happen next. But for some reason he kept forgetting this. It was almost like he erased it from his memory, every time he heard it. Although he knew he wasn't well. They kept telling him there was nothing seriously wrong with his body, though. It was something else... But they didn't tell him much.

...

The visit at June's house had turned out a little different than suspected, Neal mysteriously did recognize the entrance but when Peter walked upstairs, the poor man suddenly didn't move further. It was like he didn't want to be here at all.

Maybe this was all a bit too confronted for him.

"Oh come on, Neal. Don't be scared of your own apartment. This is where you live. Belief it or not," Peter tried. The look in Neal's eyes, though, was heartbreaking. He looked at him but got too uneasy and looked away while shifting his weight from leg to leg. Obviously not sure about following him. Then a hand fell on his shoulder. It was El's.

"Don't be scared. Ellen has been here, once. And Peter and I have too. Even your friend Mozzie hangs out often. You have a nice big room with the most beautiful view ever." She smiled. Then Neal nodded. Than whispered Satchmo's name softly. At that she shook her head in amuse.

"No, Satchmo has never been at your apartment. But I am sure he would love it too." Peter smirked. His wife was amazing. It was funny how many language his wife spoke. Even the language of a traumatized adult who thought he was just a five year old.

With this said Neal carefully took Peter's hand and they both went upstairs.

Peter couldn't help but chuckle, feeling Neal's thin cold hand shiver a bit. Who would've thought that making a deal with an ex-convict could turn out like this. He was holding the hand with the best conman in the world. Neal Caffrey. One of the smartest men he ever came across. Now this conman was acting like a super shy kid who needed his guidance towards the top of the stairs, because he was afraid to enter his own damn room?

But the inside joke was soon over. When he opened the door and dragged Neal over to his living room, the poor guy suddenly closed his eyes when he saw the last of the sunlight coming from the balcony.

The balcony where he almost killed himself…

Elisabeth just walked inside when Neal started to scream out of nowhere. He never made that much of a sound since they had found him under the bed.

"No! Nooo! Please, take me back to Ellen. I wanna go back to Ellen, now."

Neal pulled himself loos from Peter and protected his ears in total angst.

"Take me back!" his big blue frantic eyes shot open to Peter. He was going to say something to calm him down but Neal's facial expression changed in a sad look. "Mommy…" Neal obviously startled to see her al of the sudden. His eyes wandered to his unfolded blankets, as his hands dropped besides him in slow motion. Peter tried to follow Neal's gaze and caught the sight of the conman's fancy slippers that where standing under the bed and when Neal's eyes seemed to follow something that crossed the room in a fast motion, El grabbed Peters arm in concern.

"Peter, we need to do something," she whispered.

Because it was obvious…

Neal was hallucinating.

Again.

…

"I am sorry mommy. Please don't be mad at me! I am so sorry…"

His mother was a bit mad at her son. Because he didn't listen that other night. And now he needed to be punished.

"_Danny Bennett, you little weasel. What did I tell you?"_

Neal watched her expression tense up in an angry frown. He had never seen her so angry before. Because, he never deserved to get punished before.

"I am so so sorry, mommy… It won't happen again. I-I promise. Next time I will stay outside like you asked." Mommy's hands folded on her hips as she bowed down to his face.

"_That's not what I asked that other day, young man. What I asked you to do was joining me upstairs so I won't be alone anymore."_

_Upstairs... like heaven..._

Neal shook his head as he tried to find something where he could grab into. Than he found a hand. It was soft and warm and Neal took it to protect him. But his eyes never left her misty face.

"I am sorry, Mommy. But I can't go with you. It's too scary. You almost let me fall of the balcony once. And my butt still hurts. I will get my vanilla disco-dip- ice cream elsewhere." Neal pouted his lips as a hand slapped him in the face.

He was tired...

"Neal?"

"_Don't set that tone with me boy. You're just like your father!"_

"Neal?"

A few tears let his eyes and his cheek really hurts. Mommy never slapped his face before. Without any resistance Neal let himself fall on his knees and started to sob. His to large body didn't move anymore. His limbs became stone. There wasn't much he could do now. And he knew it was all his own fault! Meanwhile Mommy had already left him like this. She was mad that he didn't save her that day. It was all his fault... He never should've ignored the loud thud when Mommy fell down. It was his fault mommy died. He didn't deserve another family. Nor friends.

His eyes remained close...

...

It didn't take long for him to figure out that he was still here. Here, and not alone.

Now, three other hands where hauling him up and carried him to a soft matrass. Finally the world made some sense again and Neal recognized the same people, from earlier, hovering over him.

"Neal? You with us? _Hon. Go gather his stuff, I'll stay with him_," the woman said. It was still all kinda blurry but Neal understood what was going on again. Carefully he tried to get up from the big nice bed to face these nice people but that woman was suddenly not so sweet anymore and pushed him back down on his back.

"Stay down, Neal. You just had an attack and fell on your knees. I don't want you get hurt again. Just stay put and get some rest now."

She was a sad lady. Just like he was about his mommy. But he was also kinda tired. And taking some rest didn't sound that bad at all. Ellen wouldn't mind, right? She obviously knew these people. Maybe they were agents as well. And she has sent them to watch over him. That actually made some sense. Ellen was a busy woman.

His eyelids where already sunken down when he felt the weight of a blanket fall on his chest. It was warm and nice.

"He isn't well, Peter. I think bringing him along was a bad idea after all," the woman said. Peter, the man, walked a lot of circles through the apartment a lot before he answered his wife with a deep sigh.

"Oh nonsense, hon. She actually had suggested us to bring him along, remember? Besides, he hadn't slept in this whole day. He must be tired. Narcolepsy can't just disappear overnight. I call Klimt. We let him sleep for a while and she can meet us here in Manhattan." A lot words that didn't make sense to him. All grownup talk. Even all the signs and turns towards this nice place he had forgotten about… He didn't even care anymore. He didn't even have the strength to rub his stinging tears out of his eyes. They will dry on its own.

Neal felt a hand caress through his hair and that made him only sleepier. He gave a deep sigh and sunk into the blissful darkness. Feeling safer than ever.

…

_AN: It's a little shorter as usual, but I hope you don't mind: ). Review please. I am quite curious what you think about Neal's inner-child. The part with Peter taking his hand and guided him upstairs was just adorable. _

_TBC._

_X_

_Josie_


	10. Chapter 10

The scariest thing for a control freak is to have no control at all. Well, for a conman it was the same.

Neal Caffrey lost his mind.

And it didn't care how you putted it, it all was the same. The former conman had no control. Neal flipped. And was taken away from his apartment for further observation. That was what everybody told.

And worst of all: the word had spread fast. First an agent overheard a conversation with the big bosses from the white collar unit. And naturally he had to share it with Clara, the gossipy receptionist, during a coffee break. Soon this news spread on the streets. And no one seemed to realize how much damage it could cause to the conman's imago; and safety. Think about this one: Neal Caffrey has gotten quite famous among thieves. Sure he made some friends during his stay in New York. Sure he did some illegal things before Peter Burke got him behind bars. And sure, after he made a deal with the FBI it was very understandable that he made some enemies as well.

And now, this news about Neal Caffrey being crazy, lured some bad attention on him. How disrespectful this already was from his colleagues, to talk about Neal behind his back and all, the real damage had yet to come…

After the doctor came to Neal's apartment and brought him over to the metal hospital, Mozzie got restless. So he decided to take a long walk down town. Something that he shouldn't have done alone within this late hour.

He was grabbed by two mean looking fellows. It got Mozzie by surprise, and he knew that fighting against two men looking like 'that'. It will kill him. So he obeyed when they told them to follow nicely. They were most likely armed and dragged him over to an abandoned garage of a burned down liquor store.

Once the garage door was closed the mean looking fellows lead him towards a chair.

"Hiya, Baldy. Heard 'bout your pretty friend. Too bad, man." The big American man grinned at his little Mexican friend. While they pushed him down on the wooden chair Mozzie eyed them one by one and for a second he was almost sure he was going to die. Even though he couldn't quite recognize them right away, they sure sounded familiar. Then they flashed the guns they were carrying. But no one was using them. At least: not right away. Either way, Mozzie hated guns. Even more since he got shot two years ago; and nearly died.

"Hello… ah… Pardon my obliviousness. But I don't recall our relationship from one and each other as in friends or colleagues? But I am pretty sure you don't like me very much, is it?" Mozzie tried hard to not be afraid. But some sweat was already forming on his bald crest. The Mexican rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Oh, would you relax, Mozzie? We are submerging a lot of paintings together, remember? Me, Willie, you and that boy." The guns disappeared back into their pockets when Willie finished frisking him. "Yeah, Mozz, relax. We were just wanted to talk to you about our agreement we made years ago."

Mozzie relaxed only one inch, figuring they were up to no good, but also weren't capable to kill someone. If they were submerging some stolen art with them, by sharing the same storage container, they were gun haters as well. Mozzie wasn't stupid.

"You want your half back, right? You needed me to tell you where the location is?" Mozzie tried to understand their relationship. Lucky for him, he was right. "Yeah, man. We just got ourselves another fortune, me and my partner. And now with all that commotion on your end we want to move our stuff to a different container while we still can."

It was reasonable. Mozzie thought. He would do the same.

"Well, I can give you the address, if you give me a pen," he offered calmly. The Mexican chuckled.

"Even better. I was actually kinda worried that Caffrey was the only one who knew where it was."

"Yeah well. Next time, just call. You two gave me a heart attack."

…

Mozzie did his part and they let him go free, but only if he promised to forget about them for the rest of his life. And well… Mozzie agreed. Because he was kind of hoping he won't see those guys ever again.

This little event wasn't something to write your kids home about, if he had one (besides his Swish fake baby Marty). But the real bad thing was that the underground knew about Caffrey's breakdown. And even if these rumors where a little exaggerated, this wasn't good for business.

Now Mozzie knew why he had erased all of Neal's medical past from his files. He had forgotten how bad it was when these things got viral. It would make his friend a target. And somehow, Mozz would be a target too.

…

Neal didn't have some sort of a breakdown. He was just a little confused. The worst thing of it all was the lack of sleep he got at night. And when he started to feel tired during the day, the hallucinations kicked in. He drank too much coffee in order to feel awake during the day and the caffeine overdose gave him headaches and leaded to his dehydration.

But that was not all. His blood pressure was a little too low because he didn't _feel _hunger or the urge to feed himself. And the scary part that had gotten Peter and Elisabeth worry, his bladder was developing some sort of infection because the urge to go to the bathroom wasn't there anymore as well. Neal needed proper care for this and since he was a bit confused about being an adult instead of a five year old, they would have to start with a training schedule about when he needs to go eat or drink or go to the bathroom.

His organs were tired as well and his stomach was easily disturbed by this lack of sleep. Even though it seemed that Neal was sleeping a lot. He never got to the deep sleep, motion that usually happened after three hours of sleep. This state was necessary to keep the body healthy and flexible.

So the best treatment for Neal was to help him to get through the night, with sleeping pills first and keep him calm for a while. Rest was the best medicine for his health problems right now. And Peter and El understood that. The doctor gave Neal one room with a soft bed and a TV, sadly with no control.

Peter forgot to pack him his pajamas, for some reason, so the nurse had dressed him in a white hospital suit, like every other patient on this wing wears.

He had to stay here for the night like they already have told. But because of his health problems he needed stay a little longer.

Since Neal had talked about his deceased mother wanted to have him dead, and it all happened after Ellen got shot and died, the doctor was sure this was the main problem of this Narcolepsy. So that's why he stayed over in the psych unit, instead of the ICU, for a couple of days to help him get some rest. And maybe, during this period of time, the doctors could help him with his mental state by learn about his behavior at the same time. In any case, if Peter hadn't forced his partner to the appointment with Dr. Klimt, Neal needed to go to the doctor, with his bladder infection, eventually.

It was already late when the Burkes said their goodbye's to Neal. Neal was already hooked on an IV and dozed with some antibiotics for his infection. A little dazed about his new place, Neal watched the nurse giving him another shot. He didn't make a sound nor let the woman know that the pinch hurt a little. That earned him a fondly smile. "This is to help you sleep. It is a little different that the ordinary over the counter pills. You will feel the effects right away. So, lay down and sleep tight, mister Caffrey," the nurse said. Neal did what he was told and saw the room already tilt to one side. "G'Night. But… n-name is Bennett. With two N's and two… T's…"

"_Rest Neal…"_ Ellen's sweet voice whispered. _"I will protect you."_

…

_AN: I was working on this for a day and kinda hoping my grammar mistakes are lessened during my fifth overlookings. Tell me what you think. Next chapter will be all about one drugged poor guy and a caring friend. _

_X_

_Josie_


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning Elizabeth slowly woke up to the smell of pancakes. It was odd, she thought, considering that Peter never ever made breakfast. There was also no possibility at some sort of celebration. Her birthday wasn't up until three weeks from now, and since Neal was so out of it, there was nothing to be all cheery about.

She couldn't give it anymore thought when Peter came in the bedroom, carrying a giant tray with all kinds of morning goodies. Satchmo was, of course, following his nose and walked right behind him.

"Good morning, hon," Peter greeted cheery as he set the tray down onto the bed.

"Likewise, my goodness. You really overdid it this time, darling. Smells delicious. What's the occasion?" Elizabeth asked surprised. She didn't know how to react to this.

"Since when do we need to explain our actions, triggered by love, and other cheesy things I wanted to say to you… but just forgot?" Peter asked with a goofy smile and lowered himself onto the bed to kiss his wife. El smiled and took the fresh flower on top of her clean plate and smelled at it. It wasn't a cheesy rose but she loved this pink orchid kind so much. It came from the neighbors' garden. That made her chuckle.

"Agent Burke did you just stole something out of the neighbor's backyard to impress me?" she teased. Then she saw the dark circles under her husband's eyes. Her smile disappeared immediately. And it made room for an uneasy feeling in her stomach. That was it, right there. Peter was trying to hide it. That uneasy feeling of leaving Neal inside a nuthouse for a couple of days. That strong feeling Elizabeth shared. They had abandoning him, just when their friend needed them the most.

"You haven't slept," was her conclusion. It hurts her when Peter blinked once before he nodded softly.

"We did the right thing. Everyone would agree with us. Neal needed medical attention, for one. And professional help. We both know that. And yet. My heart feels so cold." Her hand touched Peter's chest gently. Seeking his warmth while trying to comfort him by cuddling a bit.

That, at least, broke Peter's steel wall of trying to be cool about it. Her touch was all it took to confess her everything he felt inside.

"The man was fine, El. Fine. Up until I asked him about his father. Before all of this he was alert, great minded. Clear thinking. Not even slightly tired looking or fidgety. The search for his paps was a bad idea. It had gotten Ellen killed, probably. And I know for sure that Neal is feeling guilty about this. The poor man. That image of him freaking out in his apartment is haunting me ever since we got back home."

Elizabeth didn't have any appetite for this breakfast because she had her stomach filled with worries about Neal. She didn't want to bother Peter with this, after they got home. But somehow she was not fully convinced that Neal belonged in that hospital. That poor man was just getting used to their presence and now he was back to being alone again; without any normality from his real life. Now to think of it, she wanted to see him.

Right now.

And hug him tight.

The only thing why she had managed some sleep was because of her lack of, the night before.

"Hon, let me get dressed. We are going to visit our Neal. Now, before you go to work." Peter almost smiled at this and nodded again. He was down in the living room, already buttoning up his coat when he awkwardly noticed that he still wore his Furby slippers; a silly gift from Elizabeth a few days back.

…

One good thing about these drugs was that Neal slept like a baby. He only woke up early because someone was shaking him annoyingly.

"What!" he said, a little too loud maybe.

A nurse, at least it was a sweet looking one, kindly suggested to go to the bathroom with her. For a small moment Neal didn't understand her words but he eventually figured it out by eyeing a little plastic cup. With a groan he kicked off his blanket.

"Again? Mr. pie-collector is very needy. What if I don't have anything left, or you run out of those plastic cups? What does he do with it, anyway?" Neal rambled slightly confused and still loopy from his administered drugs. He was taken off from the IV filled with antibiotics at night and got some different pills with breakfast; which he had no recollection from it. There were a bunch of holes… That medicine combination made him kind of weird. But the nurse didn't mind it at all. His ramblings made her smile slightly.

"Your doctor wants to know if the antibiotics are working, for your bladder infection, remember?" Neal doesn't but he nodded anyway. The only thing he knew was that he was sleeping somewhere else from where he supposed to be and that everyone needed his pie; every now or then. He didn't know why. He didn't even remember falling asleep. And worse of all, his nap didn't even give him some well-rested feeling. So that means he was either very tired, sick, hangover, beaten up or… yeah well… very stoned. _Oh boy…What did he do?_ He tried to figure it out on his own and eyed the nurse for the second time. Again the nurse smiled. "They are next to the bed. Talking about the slippers? You hate cold feet. I remembered it, so I brought you a pair of your size, like I promised?" The nurse looked at him expectantly. And Neal started to smile while figuring out what to say.

"Slippers… nurse. Y-you are a nurse for real. I-I asked for this. Right. Thank you."

To Neal he was acting all normal and cool but somehow the nurse started to chuckle at him.

"It's okay, Mr. Caffrey. Take your time. I don't want you on the floor." It wasn't his fault the air around him was pushing him down. It felt like he was in an elevator that just launched up like a rocket.

"You're not on a rocket, Mr. Caffrey. It's just from the drugs. Just go easy," the sweet lady said. She was much older than he was. But somehow she made him feel funny inside. Everytime when he looked up at her his ears burned. "Well thanks. On three, alright?" the nurse chuckled amused.

_Wait…did he just say that out loud too?_

"Uhm.. Right."

After the three he got up from his bed, without help.

As he got into his slippers on his own the nurse grabbed his arm, all of the sudden. It startled Neal for a second but after he felt the earthquake shaking him down, he understands her heroics. He smiled once it was over. "Thank you for saving me," he slurred and wanted to proceed his way to the bathroom, like she requested. His white hospital gown made him feel so naked and icy that he shivered again. "Wow, aftershock… nothing compared to… huh…" he forgot what he was going to say when he stood affront of the mirror above the sink.

"Mr. Caffrey? What's wrong?" the nurse said concerned.

Neal was only able to shake his head before he bit his lip in total loss of unrecognizing his own reflection. Apparently, the sweet nurse understood him better than he understood himself.

"It's alright, Neal. I know you look a bit older than you thought you were. That's why you're here. You are just a little confused. And that's okay." Her voice was so understandable and sweet. He almost started to like this nurse a bit. He nodded, and tried to act cool about his big startle. He even had facial hair now! What was this? Some sort of a joke?

"I-I… That's me. All grown up. Nothing weird about that at all." Neal smiled, trying to hide his confusion and turned away from the mirror; maybe a bit too fast for once. The walls were like fluid and turned with him, as he legs starting to morph into Jell-O. Luckily the sink was giving him some support. Otherwise he was already on the floor.

"Wow, take it easy, Neal. Don't move your head so much! You're still under the influence of our medicine. Try to keep yourself as calm as possible." She brought him a chair and Neal gratefully sat on it. Now his ears were really starting to turn red. He took his time to find his mind. And when the room stopped spinning he put two fingers in his mouth to feel his front teeth.

"What are you doing?" the nurse asked.

Neal didn't tell her! He was only glad this version of him didn't have that gigantic gab between his teeth. That made him smile brightly.

"Nothing. You can leave me here, now." he grabbed the plastic cup from the bathroom counter; hoping the nurse would go away. But she didn't.

"I don't think that's such a good idea. You almost fell just a second ago. I think I might have to consult your doctor about narrowing down the drug dosage you administered." Neal gave a sigh. He knew he was stoned… at least… he suspected it. Maybe that was making him seeing things that weren't there. He felt himself nod. "Am I in trouble now?" he asked in total earnest. Because Neal knew Ellen would kill him if she knew. "Does the principal know?" he asked a bit scared now. His friends had a stash and he was asked for a taste very often. But he always refused because of Ellen. She would be so mad if he did. She always told him a teenager should never come near that stuff because it will kill brain cells and you get dumber every time you use it. That was a scary thought though. He would never do this to himself! So why did he do this?

"I-I like school… and Ellen," he heard himself mumble.

"No, Neal. Mr. Caffrey? You are not at school. You are not in trouble. But _I will _if you're fall on to the floor like this and actually break something. So let's get started with the job. I promise I won't look. But I will be here the whole time, in case you lose your balance again. Alright?"

Weird day…

…

For the next time that morning Neal was disturbed from his sleep again, by a hand. "Aw man… Nursy? Stop touching me… wait… what? Is it pie-time already?" Neal slurred annoyed and very confused. But this time it wasn't the nurse. "H-how long did I sleep?" Neal asked again, still a bit groggy.

Peter was standing on his bedside, grinning a bit when Neal tried to recognize him in all his loopyness. His grumpy face went slack and all his color drained from his cheeks.

"Hey, buddy. Sorry to wake you," Peter said kindly, trying hard not to scare him further.

Peter had heard about Neal's busy morning. He ate a little, drank a bunch and talked a bit to the staff, who indicated that Neal was doing fine, all things considering. Everything was a lot more different than they had left him yesterday. Neal wasn't acting like a kid anymore, which was a good thing. But… after what he rambled to the doctors and nurses about school principals and losing brain cells they came to the conclusion that they were dealing with an teenager. Neal Caffrey. A quiet kid with a lot of trouble speaking up about how he really felt. So, this was kind of like the Neal they knew. But only in a more fragile and unbalanced state of mind. He was still a kid right now. But also the early familiar Neal that Peter was used to.

"You're fed," Neal noticed after a while. The young man showed no recollection of knowing him but something about Neal's glance softened a bit. "Before you ask me anything, can I see your ID?"

That smirk! Neal smirked like a little bratty child, it almost made Peter frown stern. But he didn't Elizabeth was just outside of this room, talking to Neal's doctor. And that gave Peter the calm feeling inside his stomach.

"Fine. I'll humor you for a second." He grabbed his ID badge and gave it to him for further observation, obviously. Neal took it and faked his serious look, a very Neal-like thing to do. He was acting. Conning him about not trusting an agent. Not trusting him; despite his unguarded, loopy, soft face towards him. This behavior made Peter unsure about Neal's recognition of him. Does he remember? Or was he just another person who seems interested in Neal's health, like some sort of a doctor? Meanwhile Neal stroked his slim fingers on the ID, apparently still studying it intensely.

"Well? Is it a fake?" Peter asked amused after a while. Neal looked at his picture for about ten minutes and didn't even notice that someone had joined them in this room.

"Huh? A forgery? No… no… I am just looking at it. I might need to know how a real ID looks like in the near future." Neal didn't know what he just said, clearly. But for Peter this was a sign to take his badge away from him. "Okay, give it back, you sneaky bastard. You know that is illegal right. They might actually put you behind bars if you get caught using a fake ID, right?" That was the moment when Elizabeth started to laugh. Her laugh made Neal startle for the second time and blinked up at her with huge blue eyes. His face was still stark white. But he didn't back away from them. It was obvious that the young man was trying to put all the pieces together from his puzzled brain.

Elizabeth saw the fear in Neal's eyes, however, and looked at him apologetic.

"Oh, Hon. Please stop being agent burke for once, and start being Neal's friend. Neal, sweetie? You are probably not recognizing him or me, but my husband was up all night thinking about you." She petted Peters arm as she smiled a Neal. "I am his wife, Elizabeth. But there is no need to introduce each other because we are actually good friends." Despite her words Neal gave her a hand, politely. "Well, that's nice. I am glad to see you two," he said, instead of introducing his name at her. Perhaps he wasn't sure if he would do it right. But he tried to be as normal as he could around them. Although, they knew Neal was lying but he did a better job of it than last time and how bad as it sounds… Peter and El had found some comfort in it.

The drugs must've been wearing off. His gesture flinched when Peter shook his hand too and everyone noticed the sudden troublesome look on Neal's face. In an instant he started to shift on his matrass, until he couldn't hide it anymore.

"Neal? What's wrong?" Peter asked, feeling already guilty for giving him a hand and play it along.

"Burns a bit. Need to go. Oh uh… not your hand, agent Burke. But I-I should go." He drank a lot of water this morning. All needed for his recovery, apparently. He wasn't hurt. But no one said what had happened to him. Because he told everyone he knew everything. But one thing was for sure. He needed to _go_ a lot. No seriously. He needed to go _now_.

And without thinking, El helped him in his slippers and guided him towards the bathroom. The doctor had told her he was quite shy around women so she thought it was for the best if she left him to do his own business. That was much appreciated.

After this Neal went to the small table on his own, saying that it would be a lot better to chat over there. So they followed him.

"So… I was shot, right? After I was drunk and beaten down by a giant, or something?" Both El and Peter shot him one uneasy look.

"I noticed the bruise on my ass. See, they have a mirror in the bathroom. But I don't think it's a good one. I think he is kinda broken," Neal felt his tongue slip over the words like a drunkard. "Sorry," he apologized right after that.

"Sweetie, you are here because you couldn't sleep very well. Don't you remember that? You didn't sleep that well and that got you a bit confused and started to cause some damage for your body. That bruise is from falling off… the stairs…" El quickly rephrased herself at the end. And when Peter wanted to say something about that Neal suddenly yawned like a whale, exposing his tiredness. Again he apologized.

"Oh don't apologize every time you think you did something wrong. Because you didn't alright?" El said sweetly. Her hand fell on Neal's and it was supposed to comfort him but that made Neal yelp and he pulled his hand back.

"Don't touch, please. I don't like being touched." It was out before he knew it. And it had stunned both Burkes. Meanwhile Neal made his way back to his bed again, surprisingly alert and straight ahead. He sat down on it and kicked of his slippers. It was almost like he was shutting them out from his own world. He covered himself up under the covers and started to hum a lullaby as he closed his eyes.

He wanted to be alone now. That was obvious. Peter shot his wife an odd look and they both stood up from their chairs.

"Well… uh. Guess we should go now. See you around, kid. Get some more rest. It surely did you some good, already," Peter tried. But Neal didn't say a thing back anymore. It was a weird behavior that Peter nor El had ever seen on him. Was he in some kind of a hallucination again?

"See you, sweetie." El's voice made Neal's brows furrow but he didn't sought any kind of contact with them anymore. So they left his room. Very aware of the recording camera above his door.

"Teens," Peter huffed as he turned his face towards his wife. She shook her head.

"I know. But the good thing is that he is acting a bit more like himself, right?"

With that, they left the building to begin the day like it always did. Going to work, and stuff. The big question now was: Will they be able to do some work without thinking about their friend?

Probably not.

…

AN: I know it took a long time for an update. I was in war with my own grammatics :P And I am pretty sure there are still some mistakes made. But a well. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I will do my best for the next one.

X

Josie


	12. Chapter 12

"The tape from last night showed us nothing but a sleeping patient. But right between 5:00 and 5:03 in the morning I noticed some commotion, down the hall." Doctor Klimt was replaying the recorded tape to Peter Burke and one Marshal. As they both watched the screen carefully they saw how Neal suddenly came up from the bed and started shaking his head while saying over and over again: "It's my fault, it's my fault… Can never go back." The Marshal, Ray Winston, was send over by the bureau to confirm if Neal's furlough wasn't some kind of a con, winced at this. "Man, that's messed up. No one can fake that." It was the look in Neal's eyes that showed nothing more than pure angst.

Peter, who insisted to come along for obvious reasons, shot the man a side glance; It was the first time a Marshal openly shared his thoughts to him. It was hard not to. Because, no one ever got to see this awful sight of their favorite convicted felon, before. Neal Caffrey was quite famous these days. Not because of what he did as a con. But because how he became one of the best example for this CI program. Neal Caffrey showed to all of those who didn't think a convicted felon could be reformed in society, that this was possible; but only if you put the effort in it. Show them you really wanted to reform. Neal did well. And those few, who didn't like him too much, inside the Marshalls office, were starting to see how good Neal Caffrey really was; by seeing the work he did with Peter in the white collar division.

Hearing Ray whistle a noise out of amazement and concern was one thing that Peter noticed as a good thing. The other thing he noticed was the soft gaze upon the TV-screen.

So he decided he liked this dude; and gave away some of his own feelings as well.

"Yeah, normally I would be suspicious about him too, when he is calling in sick, or whatever. But this… He isn't faking this. I have never seen him this scared." There was a short pause before Klimt interrupted them.

"Well gentlemen. I totally agree with the both of you. Because I have something else you should see." She forwarded the video tape until a certain number and put it on play. Neal was now standing in the middle of the room. Obviously talking to someone.

"Just as a reminder of things. This patient is heavily sedated at this point. And he shouldn't be capable of walking and talking on its own. So this poor man has to be intensely scared to produce this much adrenalin."

Both Peter and Ray frowned at the tone of voice Neal was speaking. He, indeed, sounded so scared. Terrified. His words came out shaky and his trembling finger pointed to the door while saying: "I can't go with you! Stop! No I am not a coward! I-I don't like it when you are angry, Mom." It goes on and on.

Peter felt very uncomfortable when Neal finally started to cry while falling on his knees; defeated by his own hallucinations. Even Ray swore once.

"Although, it is kind of normal for someone who has reached this level of hallucinations in combination of high leveled drugs to be this scared, Mr. Caffrey is showing that his condition is connecting to some sort of trauma from the past."

"He is talking to his mom. Kid says he is sorry that she died. Is his guilt the cause of his returned Narcolepsy?" Ray asked out of concern. "I mean… come on. How old was he? five?" Peter felt another spark of trust to this guy.

"Yes, I think so. Like I said earlier to Peter Burke. The dead of Ellen Parker must have opened up some old wounds so ter speak." When Annabel muted the tape to end Neal's shouts of misery Peter took a deep breath. It all sounded so sad. "Convinced?" he asked the Marshal. Ray shot him a quick and sad glance then nodded. "More than I wanted to, yes. I knew one Marshal on the scene who got killed with Ellen Parker. But I didn't feel this sad. I just hope Mr. Caffrey would be okay again. Grieve is a bitch." Peter could only nod his agreement.

Ray thanked the both of them and got back to his office. Peter was about to do the same when Annabel suddenly interrupted him.

"Peter Burke. I have something to ask you before you leave. I didn't want to ask it affront of the Marshal." Peter blinked once and felt a pit in his stomach by the seriousness of her tone.

"Ask away," was his flat answer.

"When you visited Neal this morning how did he appear to you?" Peter didn't have to think hard, because it was bothering him this whole morning.

"It was almost like we were talking to a teenager. Although he seemed a little bit more like his old self. He was kind of fragile minded. You know… like a kid."

"That was what I thought, and told the other doctor. But that was not what I wanted to say to you. Listen… I can't be sure of this yet but… I have a strong feeling that Neal is hiding himself for the truth. You know? About Ellen's dead. Neal Caffrey is obviously triggered by her loss. And she has to be a very important person in his childhood. That's for sure. But I think Neal isn't planning on leaving his own world until he accepts the fact that Ellen isn't around anymore. That said… his misplaced guilt about his mother's dead is haunting him in his subconscious. These two things are making him the way he is now."

"Sleepless. Right. Well… you talked to my wife this morning. She had an idea but I didn't think this was a good idea."

"To visit Miss Parker's grave? I think it's a good plan. And we should do this. After Neal had his fair share of help. He lost weight. He has a slight fever and he still needs some rest. But after we get him healthy again, I suggest we go together."

…

Neal Caffrey has got all the symptoms of Narcolepsy. There is no doubt about if he has it or not. But, in some exceptional cases, a patient can overcome this sleeping disorder. The way how Caffrey reacts indicates that he has a good chance to lose some of the symptoms. Most likely with help from those new developed medicine that stops the sudden sleep attacks. And also, believe it or not: therapy.

…

However, Neal did well the rest of the day. He got a chance to work out in the fitness room. Played some checker with a nurse and then fell asleep in the hallway while laughing hard at a joke the sweet nurse told. It was about taxi-drivers. It was nothing, really. But after this Neal had to stay in bed until dinner.

And when that time came, the door of his room swung open. Neal shot up from his pillow, a little startled, of course. But by the sight of two familiar faces Neal smiled at them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Burke. This is the second time I see you inside this room." Somehow it made Elizabeth chuckle. She was glad that Neal recognized them right away.

"Hey sweetie. How are you feeling? Your doctor says that you are doing a lot better. Did you have a nice workout?" Elizabeth came towards the bed and wanted to give his a hug but reminded herself that Neal doesn't like to be touched. So she stopped herself and only patted his socked foot. Neal immediately got off from his bed and walked over to the table. "Wanna sit and chat?" he says. His voice was a little unsure and different like the old Neal. A bit more shy-like. Peter was already at the table and saw the sketches on the back of a magazine. It looked like some sort of map, which Neal drew out. That got him suspicious. He wanted to ask his partner about it so bad but couldn't find his voice when he totally ignored El who wanted to give him some support as Neal stood on shaky legs while putting on his slippers. Neal was still kind of fragile and exhausted but obviously a lot better than this morning.

When Neal noticed that his secret map lay out in the open from this building, Neal winches once and then told Peter to make some room for them. He closed his magazine quickly to hide them, away from Peter. How weird it sounded, Peter thought it was actually kind of cute to see the old habits of Neal back in his early teenager-mind. Except, Neal wasn't just a teenager. He was only acting like this. The smile on Peter's face disappeared.

After a long pause Neal had the urge to speak up about something.

"Listen… You are nice people. I get that… But… If you are planning to adopt me you have to know a few things first. I am not well. I have some real issues and I don't want to get you involved with this." That unexpected sentence had shocked them.

Peter was the first one to speak up

"No Neal, we are not adopting you. Because you don't need that kind of parental insurance anymore. You are all grown up, now. Like you saw in the mirror this morning. You are just a little sick. Your mind is a little confused. That's all." Immediately after, Elizabeth shot his husband a stern look, after seeing Neal's face fall.

"Owww. It's not that we don't want to adopt you, sweetie. You are a really good friend to us. And we both love you very much. I know you are confused and that must be scary. But please don't forget the fact that we love you just the way you are. No matter what. We want you to be happy and healthy, again. And these things take time."

Neal chewed on his lip by a faint memory. Then he eyed a little blond hair on Elizabeth upper arm. He picked at it and watched it closely. A blond hair. Something softened in his face. He sparkled something close to happiness within his deep blue eyes, by recognizing at least one thing he knew about his blurry past. The Burkes must've noticed something too.

"What is that, Neal?" El asked patiently.

"This… I petted your dog before. I had one of these on my pants sleeve as well." Neal made up his mind about something. Then walked over to the stack of papers he just pulled away from Peter's nosey eyes. Peter and Elizabeth watched closely how Neal went through a few pages until he found a piece of butter from his breakfast; used as glue. It maintained a few blond hairs that Neal had found on himself. He picked one out from the butter and held it next to the fresh one. They were the same. It caused a smile on Neal's pale face. "I knew it…" he whispered to himself.

"Neal?" Peter now asked. Neal smirked, than hold the small hair a little higher.

"I knew I could trust you. This is from your dog." El chuckled amazed by Neal's great eye for detail.

"Yes! That's from our Satchmo. Do you remember something about him?" Now Peter chuckled. After his visit with the marshal this afternoon he got a bit sad about Neal's condition. He was actually getting more worried by hearing the doctor's words then this morning. But now… there was something to laugh about. In a fond off kind of way. Neal discovered his connection with them, on its own. In his own unexpected 'Caffrey' kind of way.

"Yes. Like we told you earlier, you are our best friend, Neal. Glad you figured that part out." Neal smiled.

He was proud, and he deserved it.

A few seconds later Neal got his dinner and El decided to not bothering him with the fact that he pushed all of the green healthy things away from his chicken wings.

Soon after they left, truly satisfied that Neal emptied his plate. At night Neal was fast asleep, when his door, again, swung open.

Neal didn't wake up, because of the pills they forced him to take.

If only he hadn't he would've screamed. Because someone was hauling him up, by his armpits. Only to drop him back down in a wheelchair. Those pale brown eyes spotted the anklet only once. But didn't even worry about it. He knew about the anklet. He also knew how to remove it.

Things where finally starting to look up, now that Neal felt more secure with the Burkes last evening. But now... a man, dressed like a male nurse, was driving Neal's unconscious self away from his room.

_Neal Caffrey broke. He flipped. And was brought to the nuthouse. An easy target. Easy to grab. Finally. _

Mozzie didn't have the chance to warn the Suit yet. Because he was grabbed too. Again. Only this time without some luck…

…

_AN: I am back. I worked my ass of in the real world. Built a wooden house for my new found streetcat. Almost lost my pinky while being electrocuted by an evil radio. And now I finally got the chance to make another chapter. Hope you guys still like it. I don't know who this mean kidnapper is, because the lights were off. Lol! Please review! _

_X_

_Josie_


	13. Chapter 13

Ray Winston was not a bad man. Despite others, he never judged about one or another without knowing the person first. Ray was an honest man, living by the book. Hated violence as much as heavy rain. He wasn't that stern and stiff solder everyone thought a marshal would be like. He was a man who liked fruit salad in the morning. Happily married to a beautyful women who was a school teacher. He was also blessed by three kids named Gina, Austin and little Timmy. Ray wasn't a businessman. He only worked to life. Not the other way around. And gladly helped washing the neighbor's horses when it was warm in the summer. A true nice guy.

Seeing that young man named Caffrey, this afternoon, was just that little thing he hated about his job. He saw a lot, lately. Buddies who died on the street during a shooting. Felons, who killed someone over money, got poisoned till dead in prison. Innocent people getting hurt by criminals and hanging on to their last breath. It was all about the eyes that scared him. Those eyes in each one of them who died, where always the same. No matter whom they were.

It was awful.

A person getting hurt for no damn reason was the hardest thing Ray came across. Luckily he worked most of his time at the bureau. Still… since his long career as a marshal every now or then they wanted him to go on a fieldwork. Just routine questionings and stuff, lately. But seeing a young talented guy got crazy out of grieve over a certain women who assumingly watched over him for his whole life?That was just downright awful. Ellen Parker, was that woman's name. Her name sounded quite familiar for him. He knew this story of Danny Bennett. He took an interest in it a long time ago. He wasn't exactly there when they got that young boy in to witness protection with his mom. But he was around when they put James Bennett behind bars. Hell, he even was that marshal who stood guard during the courtroom. The reason why Ray took an interest in seeing this, now grown up man was because he mostly cared. And because he was the only one inside the bureau that cared about this amazing reformed ex-con.

If only he had known that the old man, he helped to crossing the street before he went to that secure hospital, earlier, was planning to take Neal out of that wing this night; by placing a bug on his jacket. He woundn't have helped him. If only...

That old man, wasn't an old man. He was just another talented con. Not better than the best Conman himself. But not that stupid either, by willing to risk it all for the love of his life. Like Neal Caffrey once did.

That old man was in fact a big fan of Neal's work. and needed his great eye. And now he got his friend Mozzie too. Because he needed three to do a certain job. He didn't care much about the state Neal Caffrey was in. He needed him. Because Neal was the only one who could do it.

That man learned about Neal's mental state. He learned about where Neal was staying and which doctor took care of him. He even learned that there wasn't a code for the doors to open. It was done manually. There weren't any guards watching the recording footage by night that were installed in each hospital room. It was just for study on their patients. So disconnecting those and going in as a male nurse was all it took to collect his price, he wanted most.

His name was Samuel Longwood; in his forties. First class felon. Known by his expensive taste in artwork. But no patience to make his own forgeries. Never caught by the FBI.

He knew about Neal and his odd little friend who got amazing unique talents on his own. And he didn't mind guns. Oh no… He loved them.

…

All things aside. Mozzie was beat up yesterday. His phone was taken from him. His glasses where smashed and there was no chance for him to escape, because the only way out of this storage room was through the air fence and that was two and a half meters above him. And the only tool, next to his shoes, was the old chair he was sitting in.

He was worried sick about his friend. But beside the fact that he was feeling like crap himself and Neal was in no condition to get on a job, he knew they would be more worth alive than dead. Mozzie didn't know the man who took him by surprise. But the name Longwood sounded familiar somehow. Maybe this was some sort of accomplice in the past. But then again, he noticed the gun he was carrying. And Mozzie always avoided those.

Mozzie gulped just enough air into his lungs carefully. Hoping to not bother his cracked ribs any further, each breath. But the short breaths made him dizzy, and his forming headache didn't help to stay clear minded when Longwood came back. He decided to close his eyes for a little time, to spare his strength for later. His troubled thoughts were on Neal's sake. Neal was so lost at the moment. He hated what was going to happen to him.

…

The abandoned wheelchair in the parking lot came to notice when it was already too late. Neal was wheeled out and presumably dropped in a car. The anklet was probably forced off from his leg with a hamer, right here in the parking lot. Because Neal signal stopped just were the wheelchair was. Peter got the call after that. It was then 4 in the morning. They lost 30 whole minutes on the radar. Neal could be everywhere. Neal Caffrey was missing. It sounded so wierd. It sonded so untrue. Peter, as well as Elizabeth where so upset, so Diana and Jones picked Peter up and they drove to the scene together. The only trace this kidnapper left was the chair, some pieces of the anklet and a footprint in the puddle of mud. No blood fortunatly. LAPD was already on it. Along with some other FBI men.

"How could this happen? In a hospital. This secure hospital!" Peter yelled, running one hand through his hair. Diana was there to ease his boss.

"We are on this Peter. It is obvious that that someone who took Caffrey wanted him for something. He needs him alive. So Neal would be okay. Have you contacted his friend Mozzie? Maybe he knows what happened." Peter gave a sigh. He was always strong and calm towards his staff. But this time it was hard to play calm when his buddy got taken in this fragile state.

He tried to grab ahold of the bald guy. But he didn't answer. "This is no use. We need to go to the office and figure out a plan. Jones! Can you finish this up on your own? Gather as much information about who came in here at night and who came out. I need something!" Jones nodded and got back inside the building.

Diana already started her car. Peter didn't trust himself behind the wheel just now. His eyes were blurred with anger.

"We will get him, Boss. I promise. Neal is still Neal. He will manage to survive this one, too."

_Even if he was broken, drugged, confused and trapped in another world. _

…

_AN: Just because I let you guys wait for so long. Here is another chapter! Love you all!_

_Please review :)_

_X_

_Josie_


	14. Chapter 14

Neal clutched his leg as he lay on his side on to the backseat of some large car. He couldn't do anything else. It hurt so much! But the only thing that kept him from screaming out was because of an old rag is his mouth. Tears trickled down his cheeks. He moaned; his painful hums were more like a muffled breath. His mind was fogged. And despite his painful jolts in his ankle his body seems too far away, somehow.

His left ankle, hurt! It did!

Eyes couldn't open when he wanted to see. And when they popped open on their own, he couldn't focus on his wavering surroundings, but he could hear the man who did this to him.

Neal was so scared. So helpless.

And then again, after a while he just didn't care anymore. Every muscle in his body seemed to relax as the pain slowly left his body. Tears stopped leaking from his closed eyes. And he felt calm; still afraid, don't get me wrong, but also very tired.

His hands let go of his left ankle and he wrapped them around his stomach. Slowly, but surely he got himself in a more comfortable position as he started to fall asleep. Although he knew he was in great danger, because a man had kidnapped him, sleep was that one thing he couldn't fight. And the sound of the engine running wasn't helping.

Somehow Neal startled back awake when he heard the kidnapper hum some sort of lullaby. Fingers tapped along to make his song sound better, whatever it was. Neal didn't recognize it right away. But it sure sounded… reassuring.

'_Is that weird?'_ he thought. Sure it was!

But right now, he didn't care less about that either. All he cared about was that he had awoken to the sound of his own scream, when that man smashed his ankle with some sort of red fireman's hammer. And that he was feeling funny. Drugged maybe? He remembered the hospital; and the Burkes. And he also remembered his own reflection in the mirror that didn't matched with 'his' at all.

Something was wrong; because he faintly remembered something else. And it was weird to remember this stupid little thing in the middle of his life threatening situation. But he remembered a desk. Somewhere… in a place full of cops.

"That's right, Caffrey. Stay put. We're almost there, kid." The man suddenly spoke to him. The car made a sharp turn and the road felt friable from under the wheels.

Where did they go? Why was this happening? You don't get to smash someone's leg and throw him in the car and get all gentle afterwards! Screw him!

"Bas'trd," he muffled angrily. The kidnapper chuckled to that.

"Yeah, whatever." He didn't even get angry with him. The man probably figured he wasn't even a match to fight with. And the man was probably right.

A bump on the road caused Neal to feel sick all of the sudden. Everything was spinning when his eyes suddenly popped open, again. This time he saw a streetsign. But it wasn't like he could read it. Everything was blurry.

Neal was awake when the man pulled out of the wheelchair where he was apparently sitting in. He saw his face only one second. It was an unfamiliar face. And sure he got that a lot, lately. And even if that was terribly wrong on its own, this face however was sends shivers through his spine.

And since he was already confused for starters, his instinct was telling him to be afraid. And run away if he could.

Another bump on the road. His ankle was starting to hurt again. And his fuzzed mind woke up slowly with it. Along with this memory of his habit to map things out from the inside of his head. Know where you are. Feel your way. Act calm and take your chance to run, when you can. A flashback from yesterday… maybe earlier, caught his attention. He knew the way from the Burkes to his apartment.

But how?

Neal grunted and blinked his squinting eyes; finally capable of using them on its own.

_Two turns right. _

_One stoplight. _

_Sharp turn to the left. _

_A long straight drive. _

That was at least what he remembered.

_Weird hah..._

_Yes it was…_

…

"Got really quiet back there, Caffrey. Are you even still with me? God, you're a mess. But don't worry about your leg, buddy. I think your friend Mozzie is going to look very cute in a nurse dress." The man laughed. Neal startled at the loudness, not even aware that he was again on his way to fall asleep. His arms weren't moving. His whole buddy was like stone.

Then… the car stopped.

…

Mozzie shot up from his slumped position in his uncomfortable wooden chair. With a lot of effort he could recognize his captor, holding someone by the arm. "N-Neal?" Mozzie asked. He wanted to know if his young friend was still in one piece, even if his own body hurt while using his faint voice. His ribs hurt. It watered his eyes from the pain but he still managed to look angry at his captor.

"I-if you... injured the kid... I-I swear… I,-" Mozzie had to stop his impendence to take another shaky breath. After his words the man only chuckled and dropped the kid next to Mozzie's feet.

"Yeah yeah, you're a tough geek. Now fix his ankle. I'll get the first aid kit. Don't want him to die from infection in the middle of the job."

"W-what?" Now Mozzie was really worried. Oh Neal… what did they do to you? Mozzie let himself drop onto his knees and started tapping his hands onto the kid's shoulder. Neal, however, was pretty out of it. He wasn't unconscious; he was just sort of paralyzed by fear; or maybe drugged with something. From what he could see, Neal was looking at him with a slack face. Those cloudy blue eyes were open and he promptly followed his movements. But something was really off about his lack of responds when Mozzie tapped him. It was like he wasn't really there.

The man was gone for a second and Mozzie shook his friend harder; taking his brotherly moment when he was still alone with Neal.

"Neal, are you alright? Did he gave you something? And tell me what he did to your leg!" Mozzie was scared. He knew that Neal wasn't in any shape to defend himself, and Mozzie also knew that his own battered shape wasn't helping them either. They were screwed. Neal, then, slowly freed his trembling hand from under his body and put it on Mozzie's chest as his eyes looked him in the eye.

_He knew._

It meant a lot to Mozzie that Neal pointed out he cared about him too, despite his odd paralyzed state. It even made him smile as he took the hand in both of his.

"Just stay with me, buddy. Everything is going to be alright if we both just calm down." He had to take another shaky breath. Everything hurt. "I-I will protect you, Neal." At that Neal mumbled something. But it was all muffled, because of his ragged mouth.

"M'z," Neal mumbled. He sounded eagerly. Mozzie blinked at the blurry face. Now he really hated to be blinded because of his smashed glasses. But he saw the rag now.

In one stiff movement, Mozzie took it out of his mouth. And Neal licked his lips in a reflex.

"Mozz. Know… you… 'm sleepy. But wears off… Ankle... smashed by a hammer… You look… not well." He spoke then.

"What. Wait… he smashed the anklet? O-oh no… Now Suit is never going to find us…"

"S-suit?" Neal asked dazed.

"Yeah forget it, kiddo. One thing at the time."

Then the door of the storage room opened up again. The man was back with a first aid kit. For a little moment he glanced down at the two of them.

"Fix yourselves. When I come back you two are at least able to walk on your own. I need Geek to run a computer and crazy to paint something for me. Now get to work!" The kit dropped onto the ground and the man left them, along with a few bottles of water and a tiny bag of chips.

This wasn't going to be fun…

…

_AN: It's a short chapter but I couldn't wait until the weekend to write at least something for you guy's. I hope you liked the little reunion with Mozz and Neal. It seems that Neal is starting to get his mind together about his past. But somehow I think this weird mental breakdown isn't over yet; until Neal sees Ellen's grave… at least. Review please :3_

_X_

_Josie_


	15. Chapter 15

The first thing Hughes did when they came walking through the glass doors was pouring a big mug full of coffee. Without any words he gave it to his best agent and Peter took it, also without any word. Because everyone knew how much he cared about Neal Caffrey. And with this whole sleep sickness fiasco it made it even clearer. Peter cared about the kid. Not only as his handler, or his partner. But more like a friend. Hughes knew enough about their relationship, there was a reason why Reese was the head of the white collar division, to see that Peter was in no state to do this alone. Peter needed 'his' help to set up a surge plan for Caffrey.

"Just got a call from the Marshalls. They might found some evidence that Neal was planning some kind of escape route." Big brown eyes shot up towards the old man, just when he was about to take a sip of coffee. "What kind of evidence? And don't tell me they'll take that little sketch on the back of a magazine serious. Are they? Come on, you know this is just a 'thing' he does since his breakdown. You saw him, right? Neal isn't faking nor planning to escape." Peter almost snorted at his boss. Reese seemed to agree this wasn't possible but didn't say a thing about it. Hughes only shrugged as he looked directly at Diana, now.

"Get a team together, in fact: get every probie that doesn't have anything else to do right now, and meet us back in the conference room, Peter, come with me. We need to figure out the why and where, before the Marshalls actually think Neal Caffrey is on the run." Peter nodded and took only one small impatient sip of his coffee, burned his tongue and threw the full cup in to the nearest trashcan.

Somehow Peter immediately felt better, knowing that everyone cared about his missing CI. Because, he never even considered this, but Neal wasn't just a CI to everyone in this building. He was a part of the crew. One ex-con who never ever gave someone the feeling that they weren't important. Even if it was just his former job to let someone feel good about themselves, his understanding and friendly attitude counts. And no one liked Neal Caffrey to be hurt. Although… of course there were some agents who liked to see Neal fail out of jealousy; there was always a rotten apple in a basket somewhere. And to think of it, those rotten apple had caused this into the first place. It had made Neal Caffrey a sitting duck in to that hospital. Peter Burke suspected this in to the first place. But he also suspected that finding that someone was impossible because it could be anyone and it was quite possible that it didn't even started in the bureau. But in the hospital itself. Who knows. It was done. And all Peter cared was that Neal was okay.

"What are you thinking, Burke. I know this face. There is something you wanted to tell me." Reese knew him from the beginning. He knew how Peter's mind worked. So Peter gave in; knowing well that Mozzie and Neal wouldn't like this: talking about Mozzie towards Hughes himself.

"I tried to get I contact with Neal's 'friend', the one with the glasses I must have mentioned him once,-"

"Haversham?" Reese asked. Peter nodded.

"-but he didn't pick up. My wife said she would continue with trying to grab a hold of him. They… sort of were becoming… buddy's, somehow," Peter told Reese with an shy grin as they took place in the conference room.

"Bringing home criminal's, Peter? That's something new. But hell, I am not surprised. I trust you to do the right thing. But… now to think of it: Is it possible that he got something to do with this, too?" Hughes asked. Peter nodded.

"I sure hope so. Maybe he is with Neal now. If they are together, which is most likely, he would take good care of him. They sort of are like brothers." Reese suddenly chuckled at that. It was kind of odd for Peter to say these innocent, yet personal things towards him about his CI and friends. However, Reese didn't seemed to mind. He knew why he did this. Peter was worried about them both.

Peter shook his head, while staring at the few probes coming up the stairs.

"We will find him, Peter. Neal is still Neal. You said it yourself, yesterday." A short lived shoulder-pat from Hughes made Peter a little relaxed.

Affront of them the young agents took place onto the table and Peter heaved a sigh as Diana closed the door.

"Neal Caffrey is taken from the hospital last night. Those who stayed up this late are real diehards and Hughes and I respect that. But since you are here, we expect clear ideas from you all. About the _why_ and _how_ Caffrey was taken. But before we start to do the guessing game, Agent Jones is already investigating the security cameras all over the place, looking for signs of a big van. The basic facts are: Caffrey was drugged with Haldol to help him sleep during the night. He was in no condition to run or walk out on his own. They found an empty wheelchair with fingerprints on it that indicated that Caffrey sat in it. Someone took him out and disabled the anklet with force. Neal Caffrey might be injured but there were no signs of blood. He was taken into a van, like I said. And that is all we know so far." A few nodded, others wrote some things down.

"Now, let's get started with the "why"."

…

Mozzie was about to rummage through the small first aid kit, finding out that there was not much to work with, when Neal suddenly started to stir. He sort of passed out when Mozzie touched his swollen, and assumingly broken, left ankle. "N-Neal?" Mozzie tried to speak. But his breathings where getting worse and a huge headache was forming behind his eyes. He coughed once and immediately regrets it. One hand was clutching his chest as the other patted the young man's leg.

With a jolt he poked his head up from the cold and dirty floor.

"M-Mozz. Suit? Is Peter okay? I d-don't understand why… Y-you… Mozz… What's happening now? Why are we on the ground?" Neal sounded so fragile, but also aware of who he was. And the bonus that he called him Mozz and Suit _Peter_ was actually great.

Mozzie wanted to say something but he felt another wave of pain booming through his chest and all he could do, now, was to breathe shallow while proceeding with the task of figuring how to make a splint for Neal's ankle. Soon his eyes fell onto the chair and pushed that old wiggly thing down to strip off the chair legs. With some of his last power, he gladly gave away to his buddy, he got two legs loose and gathered some bandages to bind it together with. With a scissor he first ripped open his pajama trousers. This task was getting difficult without his steady grip on the scissors. His hands were shaking badly. Just like his breath.

Neal was trying to get his body off the ground, now that the drugs (or paralyzing state from fear, from his Narcolepsy-he didn't know) wear off slowly. He managed to push himself up with his elbows to take a good look at his bald friend. He remembered his face somehow. Even though he never saw him earlier. It was more like a vague memory, like that desk and the Burkes dog. "Mozz… Mozzie? Why aren't you quoting? Y-you never stop doing that…" Mozzie had to smirk at that one. Because it was a weird and yet true thing to hear out of Neal's confused mouth.

"H-having a hard time…breath. B-buddy. Ribs broken… some. I make splint... you get t-to tape me after… 'kay?" Neal nodded quietly, suddenly very concerned. Because his friend looked awful.

His eyes wandered to the man's shaking hands who started to work around his ankle. The frown on the bald man's face wasn't reassuring. "Neal… it's definitely broken. Can see it miles from here," the faint and shaky voice told him. Somehow Neal never noticed that this man was talking about _his_ ankle and only had eyes for the injuries _he_ got.

"Need to set it before… splint… It's gonna.. h-hurt," Mozzie muttered. "Sorry pal."

"Count… **one two three**… after I say… go." The glassy eyes found Neal's and Neal nodded. Now he was getting worried about the paleness of the man's face. He didn't last for long with those shallow breaths. He was almost hyperventilating.

In the meantime, Mozzie was fidgeting around on his numb ankle. But after some time, Mozzie nodded. "Go," he said.

"One, two… three?" Neal did what he was told, finding this really strange.

Neal didn't feel a thing up until **now!**

"Owww!" a curtain of darkness pulled over him as everything tilted to one side.

A heartbreaking squeal was coming from his mouth when Mozzie surprised him with a strong jolt on his foot. It was like a plane crash, landing on your foot. It hurt! Oh god! It hurt so much! Mozzie probably knew exactly what to do. He trusted him. _But still. Ouch!_ With a bang Neal hit the ground with the back of his head, but there was only the pain of his ankle. His whole body spasms from it and automatically he started to cry out. Eyes squeezed shut. Brows furrowed with pain. Hands where hitting the cold ground and his head jolted from the left to the right but after the pain slowly left his body again he discovered the splint on his leg. His leg felt better, somehow. It felt secure. Protected by the wooden chair legs. But his whole leg felt also very numb right now. So…

Anyway, Mozzie had done a good job but thanking him didn't go well, still. He wanted to say something but all he could do was whimper. It had hurt so much. And he didn't dare to move to find out again how much it took out of him. However he could finally speak after some deep breaths.

"Mozz… Mozz?" that's all he could do. His head turned towards his friend who was still sitting on his knees next to him. But something was off.

Mozzie was starting to lose his strength as well. His lips were turning blue and his eyes kept closing on its own until he wavered.

"Mozz!" Neal managed to sit up again. Barely able to reach out to keep his friend stay upright. _Concern_ must've given him extra strength, because he felt some energy again.

"Tape… ribs would help? Yes?" Neal knew his speech was off. But he tried to get his friend awake again, despite his own pain. And it didn't matter if he still couldn't form the right words without feeling his tongue slip. Neal tapped Mozzie's arm. And to his surprise it made him open his eyes.

"Neal?" his friend slurred. Without any more thought, Neal started unbuttoning his friend's filthy shirt. When this was done a big blue-purple spot was showing the trouble. Mozzie felt his defeat and slowly sought his place onto the ground. He lost air by the minute. Besides, his chest hurts more and more. And he knew his stomach wasn't okay, either. They punched him there a few times. And maybe it was for the best to just take it easy from now on. Take a nap. There wasn't something else he could do now…

"Mozz… I-I don't know w-what to do.. I-I am kind of confused. How do I help you… Y-you need doctor. But phone…not. No phone… we are all alone…" Neal felt dizzy with fear. "Right?"

"Oh forget it, Neal… Lemme sleep…" That was the last thing before Mozzie suddenly didn't move anymore. He passed out on the ground. He huffed once again but then everything eased down a notch. He wasn't dead or anything. He was still squeezing air through his lungs but it was faint and a little slower than before.

However, this wasn't good.

"Um…Um… think..." Neal mumbled. His eyes sought through the darkened room. The only thing he could do was bandage his ribs. But the kit was a few inches from his position. So… he had to move. And that would hurt. Neal bit his lip. Heaved a sigh and then did what he had to do to safe is awfully familiar friend. It was all like a weird dream to him. But he knew stuff. More than before. He was a criminal. That man who kidnapped him wanted him to do this criminal stuff. Paint something, right? He had heard him talk. But Neal also knew he wasn't bad.

Because… if he was bad.. why did he have nice friends like Mozz and Peter… ?

...

TBC

AN: Still like it? Review And I know:3

X

Josie


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